


buzzcut season

by Murf1307



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Phoenix Host!Quentin, Road Trips, Threesome - F/M/M, Tomorrow Never Learns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-06-10 22:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15301359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: When the Phoenix finally comes for Quentin Quire, he does the one thing that might save Evan and Idie: he goes to them, and begs them to run away with him.  They go on a road trip, and, as they cross the United States and head for Malibu, a lot of secrets come unraveled.





	1. New York to Bastrona

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wanting to write this fic for literal years, oh my god. I'm so excited to share this with everybody. Today, I'll be posting the prologue and the first proper chapter, and after that, I'm going to try to keep to a one-chapter-a-month schedule. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! Title comes from "Buzzcut Season" by Lorde, the song that honestly inspired the whole fic.
> 
> CW for this chapter: references to a canonical future assisted suicide, brief usage of ableist language (the words "insane" and "mad" specifically).

_I remember when your head caught flame.  
__It kissed your scalp and caressed your brain._  
_Well you laughed, "Baby it's okay;_  
 _it's buzzcut season anyway_."

— "Buzzcut Season" by Lorde

* * *

 

“Hey Idie,” Quentin says, lounging on her bed and grinning at her.  At almost 24, he's not unspeakably different from how he was at 17, or 15, or 13: his hair is still pink, and the slant of his smile still makes something twist and ache in her chest.

That said, she _knows_ something is wrong.

“What are you doing here?” she asks him, closing her door behind her and locking it.  “Quentin. I haven't seen you in —”

“Two years, one-hundred-and-ten days, and one hour, give or take a couple minutes,” he interrupts.  “Yeah, I know.”

She shakes her head.  “You missed _graduation._ ” She'd woken up, day-of, to find a thousand-dollar check from The Phoenix Corporation slid under her dorm room door, instead.

She hasn't spent a cent.

“Yeah, I know,” he repeats.  “I meant to be there. Was gonna surprise you, but…”

He flips down the hood of his sweatshirt, and Idie notices two equally alarming things at the same time:

First, Quentin's drugstore-dyed, Manic-Panic pink hair is buzzed short.

Second, his head is _on fire._

“Yeah.  I figured it would, uh, distract from your big day if I showed up like this.” He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of her bed. “Given everyone we know, and how they normally respond to Her.”

She approaches him.  “And She's…?”

“Riding shotgun, yeah.  She sends Her regards, too — not a lot of X-Men graduate college.” He scratches the back of his neck.

It's insane.  Absolutely mad.  After two years, Quentin's come back to her, looking sheepish but inarguably healthy, for once —

And he has the _Phoenix Force_ rattling around in his skull.

“Uh, thank you.” She bites her lip. “But...what is She here for? What does She want?”

“Right now? Not a lot.  She, uh, misses being human.  She hasn't really had the downtime to do that since the first time, with O.G. Jean Grey.” He shrugs a little. “That's it.  She's gonna hang around, I guess. Like a vacation for a cosmic entity.”

“Wow.” She reaches out, carefully, and takes his hand.  It shakes a little in hers, but that was normal, for him.  “You know — the X-Men, the Avengers...they're never going to believe that.”

He nods. “We know.  That's why I need you, Idie.”

She frowns, not following.

“I need to go on the run, and — I don't want to be alone.” He swallows. “I need you, and Evan, too.  It's important.”

She moves her hands to his cheeks, holding his face gently in her palms. “Yes.  I'll go with you.” She frowns, though. “But Evan...I haven't heard from Evan since he went off with Deadpool last year.  Have you seen him?”

“No, but I can find him.” Quentin leans into her touch. “Perks of having Her riding with us.  I'm like Cerebra on _steroids_.”

She can't help herself; she laughs.

 

* * *

 

Evan is working with the X-Force in Bastrona, South America, a Bamf perched on his shoulder, when Idie and Quentin catch up with him.

He's not sure why they're here, but he's glad they seem to have gotten back together, despite the hot little bubble of envy he feels — has always felt — when it comes to their relationship.  He can't have something like that, of course. Even Jia got too scared of him, between his growth spurt and the incident with the inversion all those years ago.

So he's here, running with Deadpool's crew.  He's the heavy in the group, at least until Cable and Deadpool are back “on” again in terms of their relationship.  He's gotten big and muscular, and he knows how to fight; he can be almost as intimidating as the grizzled time traveler, if he tries.

“Hey,” he says, genuinely a little surprised when the two of them — Quentin and Idie — appear. “Nice to see you guys.  Are we needed in Westchester?”

“No,” Idie says.  “Westchester doesn't know we're here.”

“Jesus, Ev, you're _jacked,"_  Quentin says, definitely staring.  “Sorry, I haven't seen you like this before.”

Evan flushes.  “Uh, yeah. Growth spurt.  And I guess I work out a little now.”

Quentin grins at him.  “Looks good on you.” He takes a visibly deep breath, and flicks down the hood of his sweatshirt.

His head is _on fire._

Which means…

Quentin winces at his expression.  “Yeah. So. Uh, do you wanna run away with us?”

Evan stares at them for a long moment, and then says, haltingly, “You... _want_ me to?” It's all he can think to say, because, seriously, _what?_

“Yeah, we do,” Quentin says, and there's something tight in the way he says it, like he's holding something back.  “It's important, Ev. I'm going on the run, because _obviously_ , and I need you and Idie with me.”

Evan hasn't felt _needed_ in a long time.

He nods, only hesitating a little.  “Of course. I — I have a duffle bag at Wade's, give me a second.”

The bamf on his shoulder — they call it Blanche, mostly to annoy Wade — takes him back to Wade's latest shitty little apartment, and he throws the last of his stuff in his duffle.  It takes less than a minute, and then, he's bamfing back, and Blanche hops down off his shoulder before vanishing.

“I'm all yours,” he says to Quentin and Idie.

And, of course, that's always been true, and always will be.

 

* * *

 

He goes to them, because it was inevitable, really.

Ten million brilliant thoughts per second, and that realization had taken seven _fucking_ years to come to.  It came alongside the rush of power that accompanied the Phoenix as She descended on him.

Avoiding Evan and Idie wasn’t going to save them.  Avoiding his destiny wasn’t going to save them, either.  

The only way he has to make sure that what he saw in his future never comes to pass is to make sure that he has Evan and Idie _with him_.  If he can keep them, he can _keep them_.  And then, he’ll never be looking back on his life in such abject despair as his counterpart.

Then, he won’t arrange his own elaborate death.

He’ll _survive,_  and they will too, and in the end, that’s all he can even fucking ask for, in the world they live in, isn’t it?

 _It shouldn’t be that way,_ the Phoenix observes.   _We have the power to make it not so._

 _I know we do,_ he tells Her, as he slides into the Uber they’re taking to the seaport, so they can leave Bastrona and go back north to the U.S.   _But remember the last time you tried to save the world?_

_They didn’t understand.  They hurt me._

_They won’t understand any better just because it’s me you’re inside.  I’m as much a loose cannon as you’ve been. We need to be discreet._

Her discontent cracks and pops in the back of his mind like embers in a fireplace, but She doesn’t say anything more.

Like anybody else, She doesn’t want a repeat of last time.

 


	2. Bastrona to Georgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After picking up Evan in Bastrona, Quentin, Evan, and Idie embark go back to the U.S., buy a car, and embark on the first leg of their road trip. Evan meets the Phoenix, and everyone finds out Quentin spent some time as a deity.

“We should probably avoid New York,” Evan muses.

Quentin chuckles a little.  “Yeah, definitely. Let’s be real, I kind of hate New York, now.” It’s not the same as it was when he was a kid, and it’s too dangerous in his current condition.

“Then we’ll go somewhere else,” Idie says.  “California, maybe?”

“Have you been, lately?” Quentin hasn't, not since — shit, yeah, not since he was fifteen and helped cause the Great X-Schism.  Not really on purpose, either, because he didn't really think about it.

She nods.  “Yes, a few years ago with the younger Originals.”

Because of course.  Ev and Idie have  _ friends _ , including the time-displaced Original X-Men.  Jealousy rears its head, but hey, it's his own fault he didn't follow them on that world tour.

And okay, he's got Jean Grey’s phone number; that's not  _ nothing _ .

“Yeah, Bobby wanted to try surfing,” Evan says, grinning a little.  “So we kinda got the gang back together and went to L.A.”

“So SoCal's all good?” The Phoenix Corporation has an HQ there, so if they want, they've got all the resources they could ever want.  “I've technically got a place out in Malibu we can hole up at.”

Evan nods.  “Sounds good.” 

Idie makes a considering noise.  “We shouldn't take a plane, though, given your condition.”

She glances at Evan, who looks back at her, and suddenly, Quentin gets the feeling that they're plotting something.  It's a reminder that they have a history he  _ doesn't  _ share, and the jealousy is back.

_ Unhealthy, _ the Phoenix hums in the background.

_ Shut up. _

She does, and then Evan breaks the brief silence:

“We should do a cross country road trip.”

Quentin blinks.  The idea's objectively a good one.  No one would expect  _ him _ to take a road trip, after all, and there's a  _ lot  _ less of a financial or paper trail.

Only problem: Quentin doesn't know how to drive.

“Uh, can either of you drive?” He asks them, a little awkwardly, not sure how else to broach the subject.

Idie laughs, and so does Evan.  “Evan can, and I can if necessary.”

Quentin nods.  “Okay, then we’re good.  I’ll buy us a car, I guess, when we get Stateside.”  Something inconspicuous, but big enough to comfortably fit the three of them.  Maybe a station wagon? Something kind of retro, ideally.

This might just be  _ fun. _

 

* * *

 

 

Idie has missed them both, more than they know.  She has never been good at expressing her feelings in words, but Quentin always knew anyway, and Evan understands in his way, too.

But it's different, this time.  This time, she has  _ both  _ of them at her side, and she feels more strongly than ever that this is what she needs to be happy.  Something is missing when one of them is, and now, her life feels full and whole again.

The sun shines, the sea gently rocking the ship, and Quentin and Evan are quiet on either side of her, leaning on the ship's handrail.

“So, Evan,” Quentin says, leaning a little over the rail to catch his eye, “What've you been up to?  I know Idie went to college, but I haven't seen you in a  _ long _ time.”

Evan shrugs.  “Sometimes I work with Deadpool.  Kitty keeps trying to get me to join the X-Men, but...it just doesn't really feel right.” He shrugs a little, slumping as he looks down at the water.  “I feel like it's the wrong choice, and then, well, I sort of feel bad that I feel that way.”

Idie reaches out and holds his hand.  “If you don't want to be an X-Man, then you don't want to be an X-Man.”

Quentin shifts closer, too, reaching around Idie to lay a hand on Evan's shoulder.  “Don't do things for them just 'cause it's the thing people do,” he says, and Idie's not sure he's ever been more serious about something in his life.  “It's your life, not anybody else's.”

Evan looks up at Quentin.  “You sure?”

“Damn sure.” Quentin exhales.  “Remember Genosha, an’ Red Onslaught?”

“Yeah,” Evan says, his voice tight.

Quentin squeezes his shoulder.  “The only reason I lasted that long against him was because you were there.  You...believed in me, y'know?”

Evan nods.  “Of course.”

“I needed that, that day.  And then, after — you literally had to be inverted to go Apocalypse.  It's not you. He's your genetic donor, not who you are.”

Idie doesn't know what she can say.  “We're not monsters,” she promises both of them.

Quentin smiles at her, and she feels his gratitude and pride brush against the edge of her mind.  She pushes a warm feeling at him in turn, a little rusty given how long it's been.

Evan squeezes her hand.  “We're not,” he agrees, nodding.

As they watch the water wave, Idie can't help but think that together, they'll be just fine.

 

* * *

 

 

Evan winds up picking the car.

It's hot in South Florida when they get off the boat, and while Quentin and Idie might not be affected by temperature changes, wet heat is the  _ worst  _ for him.

“Yeah, we can buy anything on this lot flat out,” Quentin says to the used car salesman.  “We just need to drive it out of here and pay with a credit card. Don't worry about it; here's my card.”

He passes the gobsmacked salesman a business card.

“Are you — are you sure?”

“Dead sure.” Quentin grins.  “Like, literally dead sure.” He turns to Evan and Idie and gestures expansively.  “Go wild.”

Evan walks through the lot, looking for a car that could fit three of them and that won't offend Quentin's sense of taste.  Air conditioning and a radio that works would be ideal, too, because  _ god _ it's hot.  

Eventually, he and Idie land on the same station wagon while Quentin is laying it on thick with the salesman.

“I think this one's perfect,” Idie says with a grin.  “I think we could even all fit in the front seats.”

“Yeah,” Evan agrees. “I was worried something like this would be too small up front, but it looks like we'll be just fine, if we take this one.”

“The trouble with being seven feet tall and superhero-shaped,” Idie teases him.

“Yeah, well, we can't all be tiny,” he says, grinning.

She moves to his side and leans against his shoulder.  “I'm just glad we found you. I worry, sometimes, when you go off with Deadpool like that.”

He knows why she does.  “Wade's messed up, but I trust him.”

“I know you do,” she murmurs, laying her head on his shoulder.  “I just, you know, I don't know if anyone's looking after you.”

Evan chuckles.  She's the only one he trusts to worry about things like that; anyone else, and he's sure they care more about who he could become than who he is right now.  “Well, was anyone looking after you?” he asks.

“Touché,” she says, chuckling too.

“So, have we made a decision?” Quentin pops up beside them, hood still up despite the heat and humidity.  

“Yes,” Idie says.

“We like this one.” Evan smiles at Quentin.  “And thought you might, too.”

Quentin grins.  “Yeah, I do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Quentin cannot  _ believe _ his luck, sometimes.  Like right now, stretched out in the back of the 1968 Ford Country Squire they got for a steal in South Florida, Evan and Idie in the bench seat up front.  

He's with his two favorite people in the world, and the world isn't ending.

And, hell, it's not actually their job to fix it if it is.  Quentin has  _ never  _ been an X-Man, after all, and Idie's been away at school, and Ev, sure, Evan would feel obligated, but Quentin bets he can convince him otherwise.

The Phoenix makes a disapproving noise in his head.

_ I'm not risking them,  _ he tells Her firmly.   _ I need them.  You can see that in my head, can't you?  _

_ You human mutants love so deeply, you would doom whole planets for it,  _ She observes.   _ You remind me of Scott, that way. _

The warmth rumbling through Her as she says it makes it clear that's meant to be a compliment, and Quentin remembers: She loved him in Jean's place, back in the beginning, as strong and sharp as adamantium knives.

_ I could show you how it felt,  _ she offers,  _ but I do not understand it. _

_ Someday you will _ , he assures Her.   _ We fucked it up last time.  But we'll get it right, this time around.   _

Privately, he's come to believe that Phoenix Vessels just aren't meant to be in love with one another; that's why everything went so horribly wrong with Sophie all those years ago.

_...Is Sophie happy?  _ he asks, tentatively, since he's thinking of her.   _ In the White Hot Room, is she happy? _

_ She is well.  She is healing. _ The Phoenix sends him an awkward attempt at comfort.

_ Thank you. _

“Quiet back there,” Idie observes, interrupting his silent conversation as she twists around to smile at him.  “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, sorry.  I just wound up thinking about some stuff from back when I was dead that one time.” He figures honesty is the best policy, ultimately.  “First time Miss P and I met, and all that shit.”

He gives Idie a reassuring smile.  

“It's so weird knowing you've been dead before,” Evan interjects quietly.  “You talk about it like it's not a big deal.”

“It's not, really, for Hosts.  We can technically always come back.” At the Phoenix's whim, sure, but that's still more than normal people get.  “And we have a sweet afterlife specifically for us.”

Idie bites her lip.  “What's it like?”

“It's hard to remember clearly,” he admits.  “But I was alive the last time I visited, so I remember that a little better.  Last time I Hosted, out on Chandilar, before I actually got to Host, She was having this fight with Thor — the girl one — and I sorta...broke into the White Hot Room to talk to her.”

_ You had a proposal,  _ She prompts, amused.

“And yeah, that's how I spent some time as a Shi'Ar god.”

“Wait, you  _ what?! _ ” Evan squawks.

Quentin laughs.  “Yeah. Did you know that gods have a weird government thing?  And they can go to jail and shit.”

“Did you…?” Idie sounds utterly bewildered.

“Nah.  But the two major Shi'Ar gods went to god jail, so the Shi'Ar needed a deity to worship.  So we took up the banner.”

Idie shakes her head, completely gobsmacked.  “ _ Why  _ haven't you told me about this before?” she asks.  “Your life is completely absurd, if that's something that just slips your mind.”

“I second that,” Evan says.  “Holy shit.”

Quentin laughs, just a little.  “Yeah, honestly, it's pretty fucking ridiculous.”

Idie grins at him.  “So, what was divinity like?” She seems genuinely curious, and not, like, all angsty about religion the way she was when they were all kids.

“It got  _ so  _ boring, like, you would  _ not  _ believe how boring it was.” He hops into the front seat, between Evan and Idie.  “Which, like, is super disappointing, because if  _ I  _ can't have fun playing God, nobody can.”

He leans against Evan's shoulder and tosses a leg over Idie's lap, settling in.

Godhood, ultimately, has nothing on this.

 

* * *

 

 

They make their first stop in Orlando.  The weather is hot and muggy, and Idie could have done without some of the humidity, but the heat itself is very nice.

“We should go to Disney World or something,” Quentin says, “there's like, ten theme parks around here.”

“Yeah!” Evan grins.  “I've never been there.” 

Idie nods.  “Me either,” she admits.  “And we should come up with some kind of plan for this trip.”

Quentin hums.  “I'll leave that up to you guys, since this was your idea.”

Evan looks over at Idie.  “Did you have an idea?” he asks, likely already knowing that she does.

“Perhaps we ought to make a stop in each state we pass through,” she says.  “The Phoenix is here to sightsee, isn't She?” Quentin seems pretty clear about his and Phoenix's intentions, to her.

“Yeah,” Quentin agrees, smiling.  “Plus, that means we can stop in Vegas, right?”

She and Evan laugh.  “I like the idea of making stops, but I'm probably not gambling,” Evan says.  “So, we're probably gonna make stops in...Georgia, Alabama…” He trails off, seemingly trying to remember the state names along the border.

“Mississippi, Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, and then California,” Quentin finishes for him.   “Sounds good.”

Idie smiles.  “Now, to Disney World?”

“Oh,  _ fuck  _ yeah.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ironically, a song about going to Georgia plays on the radio that night as they cross the Georgia state line.  Idie and Quentin are asleep in the back, so it's just Evan at the wheel, the radio, and the road rolling on in front of them.  It's a song he knows, from one of those kind of obscure bands Quentin likes.

_ “The remarkable thing about coming home to you is the feeling of being in motion again,”  _ the song begins.

Evan almost laughs at how appropriate that is.  They're all home again together, but only in motion.  It feels good, though. Like this, no one knows who they are.  Like this, no one can blame them for anything.

He's not expecting to hear Quentin's voice, quiet and almost gentle, join the song: “ _ I have two big hands and a heart pumping blood, and a 1967 Colt .45 with a busted safety catch.” _

Evan joins him.   _ “The world shines as I cross the Macon County line, going to Georgia.” _

Quentin climbs into the front seat and looks at him.  Evan glances back, with a rueful little smile. He gets why Quentin likes this song; it might just speak to them both for the same reasons.

They're not monsters, but they  _ could  _ be.  

If things go wrong, they  _ will _ be.

“ _ The most remarkable thing about you, standing in the doorway is that it's you, and that you're standing in the doorway,”  _ Evan continues, because it's true: Quentin slipping back into his life like this is remarkable, because it almost feels like he never left.

“ _ And you smile as you ease the gun from my hand,”  _ Quentin answers, reaching out and curling Evan's free hand into his own, _ “and I'm frozen with joy right where I stand.” _

_ “The world throws its light underneath your hair.”  _ Evan squeezes Quentin's hand.

Quentin laughs, his own hand coming up to palm over his new buzz cut, which glows faintly in the dark of the night.  “ _ Forty miles to Atlanta, this is nowhere.” _

“ _ Going to Georgia,”  _ they sing together, hand in hand.

The song winds to a close; it's a short one, and in the aftermath, the volume dial on the radio turns down on its own: Quentin's doing, for sure.

There's still music, but Evan can't make out the words. 

He takes a breath.  “Sometimes,” he murmurs, “I think about what people think we're gonna become.” 

Quentin squeezes his hand.  “Yeah. Me too. Especially... especially now.”

“What's She like?” It's a question he's had since the beginning, really.  He's heard so much about the Phoenix, but he doesn't really know anything about who She is — and it seems, from everything Quentin says, She  _ is  _ somebody.

“...Do you wanna meet Her?” Quentin looks somewhere between hopeful and nervous.

Evan thinks about it for a long moment.  He doesn't know how She'll react to him — after all, some of Her favorite people are family to Apocalypse's greatest foes.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding.  “I mean, it'd be weird not to, right?  Since She's traveling with us now.”

Quentin nods.  “Good point.” He gives Evan a smile, and then…

He shimmers for a second, and then, almost superimposed over him, appears the spectral form of a beautiful woman.  She looks, he realizes, exactly like Jean Grey.

She watches him, and those are still Quentin's eyes underneath, but they glow with a golden flame.

“Um.  Hi,” he says, because there's nothing else  _ to  _ say.

“ _ Hello, _ ” She says, in turn.  “ _ It's good to finally meet you.  At least, properly.”  _ She lifts Quentin's hand, examining it.  “ _ He thinks of you often.  Not just lately, either. _ ”

It warms him.  “And you're here just...to take a vacation?”

“ _ Yes.  The world is not ready for Us, and so, We must wait.”  _ She cocks her head, watching him.   _ “Do you fear Us?” _

“...I mean, a little?” Evan doesn't know what to tell Her.  “You're the cosmic personification of life, right? And you're using one of my best friends as a host body.  Historically, that...hasn't really gone well for people.”

She nods.  “ _ That is true.  I do not...want that to happen to him.  He was always much more...light-hearted, than Jean or the others. _ ”

“Yeah.  He...he has his problems, but he doesn’t wanna dwell on them.”

“ _ Indeed _ .”  She smiles at him.  “ _ And he has you, and Idie.  The three of you have each other.  It is better than the last few times. _ ”

He doesn’t ask Her what She means.  

_ “I will have to meet her soon,” _ She says,  _ “Though I do not think I will do this often.  I do not walk in your world the way I did in the beginning. _ ”

“You took Jean Grey’s place.  I -- I know the story.” It’s hard to live where he has lived and not know the story -- the first great tragedy, where Jean Grey died and rose again and died and rose again and died  _ again. _  “And you forgot who and what you really were.”

“ _ Yes. _ ”  She smiles a little wider.  “ _ I loved being human.” _

“I guess it’s better than some other things you could be.  Quentin said he got bored being divine.” It had been really something to hear.

She laughs, and it sounds like bells chiming.  “ _ Yes, he did. _ ”  She pauses, cocking her head to the side.  “ _ It’s...tiring for him, to hold me out like this.  I think I will have to say goodbye, for now.” _  She reaches out to lay a hand on his again.  “ _ Thank you.  It has been a long time since someone paid me this much respect without worship _ .”

And with that, She fades away.  Quentin’s eyes droop closed, and the fire is only a faint glow again.  

Evan reaches out and tugs Quentin against him, so he can sleep against his shoulder as they head north.  For Georgia, they have no set game plan; all Evan knows is that by morning, he’ll be somewhere they can stay for a day or two.

He wraps an arm around Quentin, and sinks into his own thoughts, going to Georgia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can expect the next chapter sometime in August! Hope you're enjoying the story so far, and I'm sorry I didn't include their trip to Disney World. I've never been, so I didn't feel qualified to write that bit.
> 
> The song Quentin and Evan sang along to is called "Going to Georgia" by the Mountain Goats, and I thought it might be interesting to rework it as a duet between two messed up people trying to help each other, you know?


	3. Georgia

The swamp is kind of a bust, because, well, it's a  _ swamp.   _ Idie doesn't like it much, and neither does Evan.  Quentin’s kind of into it, but only for like, the first fifteen minutes.

And so, they get back in the station wagon and head on their way.

A ways down the highway, Quentin points out the window at a sign on the side of the road.  “Oh, shit, guys, berry picking. Let's do that.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Evan agrees.  “Idie?”

“I'd love to,” she says, nodding.

Evan finds the next exit, and, after a bit of searching, they find the berry farm the sign mentioned, but, honestly, it looks like a patch of woods rather than a farm.

The three of them look at each other as Evan parks, but they pile out of the car and approach the stand where an older black woman is seated, knitting.  She raises an eyebrow as they approach. “Y'all here for berry pickin’?”

“Yeah,” Evan says.  “We saw the sign from the highway.”

“We're on a road trip,” Idie adds.  “We're headed for California.”

“Mhm,” the woman says.  “Well, we've mostly got muscadines and wild mulberries right now, which I'll bet you ain't ever had.”

“I've had mulberries,” Evan says.  “Though the ones in Kansas probably taste different.”

“Well, it's twenty dollars for a basket,” she says, gesturing at the sign above her head with one of her knitting needles.

Quentin interjects, “We'll take three.”

“Alright, sixty, then.”

He gets the cash from his pocket and passes it to her.  She pulls three baskets out from behind her stand, and Evan takes them, passing one each to Idie and Quentin when the woman nods for them to head into the woods.

“Oh,” Idie says, nodding, turning back to the woman, “What do muscadines look like?”

“Grapes, but the vines are up in the trees.” The woman smiles at Idie.  “Be careful not to get lost in there, though. Cell phone reception ain't great out here.”

Idie nods.  “We'll be careful, ma'am.”

Then, taking Evan's hand with her free one, she leads the boys into the woods.

 

* * *

 

“Y'know, I think these might be  _ better _ than grapes,” Quentin says, popping a few muscadines into his mouth twenty minutes later.  His hands are stained with mulberry juices, and he feels  _ good.   _ Like, even with the Phoenix riding shotgun, he's happy.

_ I like them,  _ She says, as he glances at Evan and Idie.  Idie's perched on Evan's shoulders to reach a muscadine vine.   _ Evan was very kind, and Idie seems so as well. _

_ Yeah,  _ Quentin replies.   _ Part of why I love them so much. _

He's never condensed it down so much, never said it so explicitly, but it's true: he loves them, both of them, like he's never loved anything else.

_ I could burn the world for them,  _ he adds.   _ But you already know that. _

_ Yes. _

Evan turns toward him.  “What about the mulberries?”

“They're good too, see?” He waves his stained fingers.  “Shit, this was  _ such _ a good idea.”

Idie laughs, and, for the moment, all is well.

 

* * *

 

Idie finds their next hotel, a little chain place also just off the highway, close to the Alabama border.

She knows that this part of the country is not particularly  _ safe _ for the three of them, but she also knows that, between the three of them, very little can truly hurt them anymore.  Quentin has the life force of the cosmos at his fingertips, and Evan has most of the powers of his progenitor, and she has fire and ice as powerful as any other pyro- or cryokinetic.

Anyone who wants to hurt them for looking different has  _ all  _ of that to contend with.

So she isn't worried, though she knows Quentin is.

It seems like Quentin is perpetually worried now, and she's not sure why.  So she just does the few things she can for him: she puts her arm around him as they enter the hotel, and lets sweet, wholesome, rural Evan do most of the talking.

He might  _ look _ fearsome, but as soon as he opens his mouth, it's obvious he wouldn't dream of hurting anyone.

“Uh-huh, just the three of us, so, maybe, two queens and a sofa bed?”

“Sorry, honey, we ain't got no sofa beds left.” The receptionist sounds genuinely sorry about that.  “We got rooms with two queens, though.”

“That'll be fine, we'll make it work.” Evan gives her a smile, and she hands him the keys.

 

* * *

 

 

_ ‘You are doomed! you are doomed! you are doomed! you are doomed! you are doomed! you are doomed!’ _

_ The world is burning around him, Phoenix flaring in his chest as his mind cracks and unravels.  Her fire is all that keeps him standing, Her fury the only constant, the ending he has always been running toward. _

_ Idie and Evan are dead, their bodies dust, and this is worse, so much worse, than the future he saw seven years ago, and he understands, now, the devastation his counterpart in that future felt when  _ **_he_ ** _ burned it all down and begged to be put down like a fucking rabid dog. _

_ He burns, hitting his knees, and lets out a wail of grief, so strong it could crack a planet in half. _

_ And it does. _

 

* * *

 

He smells smoke when he jerks awake from the nightmare.  His sheets are charred, his t-shirt and boxers, too, but he's not alone.

Idie has him wrapped tightly in her arms.  

The Girl Who Wouldn't Burn, she was called that, he knows that.  And her clothes are burned, too, which means — which means —

In his sleep, he couldn't burn her, not with all his Phoenix fire.

He gasps out a sob and finds her face with his hands, dragging her in for a kiss.  He doesn't show her what he saw, doesn't want her to know what he is now, how close to the sun he's flying.

She kisses him back, her body strong and lithe against his, and there it is again, the feeling of coming home.

When he has to come up for air, her face is still in his hands.  They're both trembling.

“Nightmare,” he says, coughing a little from the smell of smoke in the air.  “Sorry — I — I get those, sometimes. Figures they'd be worse with Her riding along.”

She nods, and pulls him into a tight hug.  “You started screaming,” she murmurs.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

“Evan?” Idie asks.  “Could you get those hotel bathrobes out of the bathroom?”

That’s when Quentin remembers that Evan is here, and his eyes find him, looking worried.  They make eye contact, and then Evan is slipping away to get the robes. 

Idie loosens her grip on him and then they’re both kneeling in front of each other.  Her clothes are hanging onto her by threads, and he tries his best not to look at her body — they’d never gotten that far, when they dated in school.  They were kids, and they’d never had the time, anyway.

She smiles at him, soft and relieved.  “I’m glad you’re alright, though.”

“Yeah, I — I don’t know, I could’ve burnt the building down.” He exhales.  “Sorry, again. And, um, also about your clothes.”

“It's fine,” she says softly.  “Those can burn. I can't.”

He nods, taking her hands in his.  “Shit, Idie. I...I'm just...I'm glad I couldn't hurt you.” It's the only relief he has, after that dream.

“It's fire,” she points out with a smile.  “I can handle it.”

He laughs a little wetly.  “Yeah, yeah you can.”

 

* * *

 

In the bathroom, Evan takes a moment to let out a shaky breath.  It's hard, even knowing Quentin and Idie's powers, to watch them burn like he just had to.

Idie had woken first, to the smoke and screaming, and Evan sat up to find her throwing herself into the blaze that was consuming Quentin.  He'd almost called out, almost tried to stop her, before he remembered fire was one of her  _ things. _

Quentin kept burning only a little longer than that, before he'd woken and pulled Idie into that kiss.

And that's the other thing, really.  Evan hates to admit it, but he felt jealousy when he saw them kiss like that, when he could kiss her and Evan couldn't, when she could comfort him and Evan couldn't.

He loves them, but they love each other, and he's just going to have to live with that.

After he takes a moment, he gets the robes and brings them out to them.  He finds them holding hands, Quentin doing his best to wrap Idie in what remains of the sheets.

“Quentin, it's okay.  I trust you guys,” Idie is saying, a laugh in her voice.  “Besides, Evan's got the robes.”

Quentin looks up and grins a little, seemingly mostly recovered from the nightmare, though Evan can still see tension at the corners of his eyes.  “Thanks, man,” he says, when Evan quietly passes him one of the robes.

“I guess we're all gonna have to squeeze into the other bed,” Evan says, keeping his eyes on their faces and no lower as they put the robes on.  

Idie nods.  “I think that's a good idea.”

Quentin frowns.  “I don't wanna set Ev on fire, though.” He licks his lower lip a little nervously, hands settling in his lap.

“It'll be fine,” Evan assures him.  

“You don't know that.” Quentin looks up at him, and there's an intensity in his eyes that Evan doesn't quite understand.  “You  _ can't  _ know that.”

“You slept on my shoulder for half the drive through Georgia,” Evan insists, reaching out and curling one hand around Quentin's.  “Now, c'mon. Let's go to bed.”

Idie nods, putting her arms around Quentin's waist for a brief hug.

“If you're...if you're sure.” Quentin stares down at their hands.  “I — shit, you guys, I'm just…” He swallows. “If something happened, I'd, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.”

Idie shifts, rubbing the back of Quentin's neck.  “We don't think that'll happen, Quentin.”

“You held off Red Onslaught.  That was just you,” Evan reminds him.  “You're the strongest telepath alive, barring Jean Grey.”

“You were, quite literally, born for this,” Idie points out.  “You said that.”

Quentin lets out a shuddery breath.  “Okay. Okay.” He slides one arm around Idie’s waist, squeezing Evan’s hand with the other.  “Let’s go back to bed.”

Evan smiles at him, encouragingly, and helps him and Idie off the burnt bed.  Quentin doesn’t let go of either of them, so the three of them just kind of scuttle to the other bed like a crab.  

Evan lays down first, since he takes up the most space.  Idie slips into the middle, her back pressed against Evan’s front.  And then Quentin wraps himself around Idie like she’s a life preserver.  And maybe she is, for him, in the moment. 

All he can do is drape his arm across both of their waists.  At least he can hold them, he thinks. He can give that to them — his size, his strength.  At least he can comfort and protect them this way, even if they don’t want or need anything else from him, because they have each other when the fire comes a’calling.

He’s not expecting Idie to reach across Quentin to find his hand in the dark, but it helps.

When he falls asleep, at least he’s holding both of them.

 

* * *

 

Idie wakes up bracketed between Evan and Quentin.  Quentin is soft against her front, his round cheek pressed against hers.

He’d  _ kissed her _ , last night.  As though nothing is different from when they were kids.

It should be weird.  It should trouble her.  But she likes it, likes having his body pressed against hers, likes being able to comfort him when it comes to the things he fears about the Phoenix Force.  She likes that it works when she does.

And then Evan, behind her.  He’s always been so  _ good.   _

She knows he worries about that, about being good, because of Apocalypse, and what could happen if he  _ went  _ bad.  After Genosha years back, when he'd been inverted, it had gotten particularly bad.

But she believes in him, believes in how hard he works to be a hero, to be more than the world expects from his fluke of genetics.

It feels right to be here with him, too.

It's a quiet revelation, there in the soft light of early morning: she loves them both, and she wishes they could live like this forever.

Do they even  _ have  _ to be special?  Why is it their job to prove that they — and other mutants — aren't dangerous?  Why can't they just live their lives, and be  _ happy _ , and leave heroism to other people?

But, her heart heavy, she remembers something Kitty used to say, a quote from the Talmud: “It is not incumbent on you to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.”

They have to be heroes, because the work isn't done.

_ God?   _ she prays,  _ if I can ask for anything, please, just let me keep this, and them, for a little while.  In the name of the Holy Family, please just let me have this. _

She doesn't realize she's murmuring a Hail Mary until Quentin stirs against her.

“Idie?” he breathes, sleepily.  “Time to go?”

“No,” she murmurs, and kisses his cheek.  “Go back to sleep; you need it, after last night.”

He smiles a little.  “You too, though, 'kay?”

She chuckles, reaching with her free hand to cup the back of his neck and pull him closer.  She feels Evan's arm tighten, too, though he's still seemingly asleep, and it feels good.

“Of course.  Now, sleep.”

He nods, and soon, she's drifting off again, too.

 

* * *

 

Evan smiles when he wakes up an hour later, and carefully extricates himself from the bed, leaving Quentin and Idie to their sleep and to each other.

Quentin's probably going to be ravenous when he wakes up, and that means breakfast.

He feels weird about spending Quentin's money, so he spends his own instead, ordering room service and putting it on his own debit card instead of the room tab.  Quentin and Idie sleep on uninterrupted, and they deserve it. They’ve always deserved better than they got, and Evan’s happy if he can fix that, just a little.

Idie starts to wake soon after he does, though, and he sees her looking around for him, the way her hand clenches on the sheet, before he can wish her a good morning.

“Oh, there you are,” she murmurs, softly.  She shifts a little — not pulling away from Quentin, but so that she’s sitting up, her hand resting gently on the back of Quentin’s neck, his head in her lap.  “Did you sleep well, after…?”

“It was nice, having both of you,” he says, before he can stop himself, and blushes darkly.  

She laughs, quietly, and he notices that the sleeve of her robe has slipped down in the night, baring her shoulder.  She’s so beautiful in the morning light that it almost takes his breath away.

“We’re lucky to have you, too,” she murmurs.  “The world is lucky to have you in it.”

He looks down and smiles.  “Are you thinking — “

“Yes,” she murmurs, nodding.  “Much as he won’t like it, I’m feeling a little out of practice.  What about you?”

“I’ve been fighting with X-Force, so, you can guess what that’s like.  Not exactly heroism.” He turns his smile, soft and almost shy, to her.  “Sometimes it’s important, but…”

Shen nods.  “Sometimes it’s not, huh?”

“Exactly.”

She strokes the back of Quentin’s neck.  “I think I was running away,” she murmurs.  “I don’t — I don’t  _ regret _ going to school, but…”

“I know.”  Because he does.  They’ve all been running from the future for so long.

It’s hard to do anything else, sometimes.

“He can’t run anymore,” he says to her.  “Not really. She’s  _ with  _ him, now.  And we don’t know what She’s going to want, when She decides She doesn’t want to be on vacation anymore.”

“Do you trust Her?” 

He bites his lip.  “She’s like us. She  _ wants _ to be good.  People just...they misconstrue Her as a threat, I think.  Just like they do us.”

Idie nods.  “So, if we just...if we treat Her like a person, then, we’ll be okay.”

“I think so.  I think it might be up to us, anyway.”  Evan gets up and goes to the window. “No matter what, though, he’s got us.  Even if the world sets itself against them because of what She is, they have us.”

“Will that be enough, do you think?” Idie’s question is soft, but incisive.

Evan looks back at her.  “It might have to be. It’s not like we’re going to do anything else, if it’s not, right?”

“Right.”

He comes back to the bed.  “Anyway,” he murmurs, sitting down beside her, “I think we should try a little heroism in the meantime.”

“I agree.”  She smiles. “Thank you.”

Quentin won’t like it, he knows.  But their minds are made up, and that’s that.


	4. Cullman, Alabama

Quentin knows that Evan and Idie are up to something.  He trusts them, so it’s not like he’s going to go digging, but the  _ mood  _ of their thoughts is inescapable.

They’re determined to do something, that much is very clear.

He hopes it’s not some kind of heroic thing.  He’s trying to avoid that kind of situation right now — not because he thinks the Phoenix would insist on intervening, but because he can’t help but think he would reveal himself if he had to use his powers in such a public way.

_ You do not trust your ability to hide us? _

_ It’s not that easy.   _ He tries to keep his frustration internal.   _ There’s part of me that wants to say fuck you and, y’know, float above the world and show them what We are, but...bad idea. _

The Phoenix flickers in the back of his head.   _ It would endanger Us, and them. _

_ Exactly. _

They stop at a rest stop at around lunchtime, and Quentin keeps his hood up as they head inside to grab some food.  It’s not likely anyone would peg him as a Phoenix  _ just _ from his hair, but Evan’s already pretty visible as a mutant, and if they’re keeping a low profile, walking around with his head on fire isn’t really conducive to that.

“So, our options are Nathan’s-knockoff hotdogs, or pizza, it seems,” Idie says, having made a brief lap of the place.  “Nowhere else is open, except the newsstand, which just has chips and jerky.”

“I’ll take my chances with the hotdogs,” Quentin says.  “I’m  _ not _ doing pizza in the Deep South, sorry.”

Evan raises an eyebrow.  “You sound crabby.”

“The last time I had pizza somewhere that wasn’t New York, Chicago, or a Pizza Hut, I hurled.”  Quentin shrugs. “I’m not crabby, just firm on not puking.”

“Fair point,” Evan concedes.  “Idie, are you gonna chance it?”

“I think so.”  She smiles at Quentin.  “Do you mind? It’s just around the corner.”

Quentin nods.  “Yeah, don’t worry about it.  I’ll get my hotdog and come find you guys.”

It’s not until they’re out of sight that it occurs to him that they could be off doing  _ anything _ around that corner.

Not that he thinks they lied to him, it’s just that they’re  _ plotting _ something, and that’s got him just a little bit on edge.  He forces himself to take a deep breath, and steps toward the hotdog stand to get himself some lunch.

_ We could check _ , the Phoenix suggests, because of course She can feel his tension.

_ No, it’s fine.   _ He smiles absently at the cashier as he buys a hotdog, and starts walking toward where Evan and Idie disappeared off to get pizza.

He’s about to turn the corner when a gunshot goes off.

Dropping the hotdog, he bolts around the corner, his entire brain just screaming  _ where are they _ , barely able to keep the thought internal as he searches for the two of them.

He doesn’t have to look far, because Evan has just tackled a man, a gun at both of their feet.  Idie — Idie looks almost  _ menacing _ as she leans over the man Evan’s holding onto.  It’s a tableau Quentin could never have expected.

_ They are strong.  Stronger, maybe, than We gave them credit for. _

“Next time,” she’s saying, “Don’t just try and stick up a rest stop because you think it will be easy.”  

The man blinks up at her, looking terrified.  But his face hardens. “What the fuck I gotta listen to a couple of  _ muties _ for?  Ain’t you guys almost died out  _ twice _ in the last ten years?”

Quentin can’t quite stop himself from intervening, but he’s interrupted even before he can move by Evan tightening his grip on the bigot’s neck and shoulders.  “Listen,” Evan says, “Idie used to be an X-Man.  _ I _ was on the X- _ Force _ until very, very recently.  If you’re not gonna listen to her, maybe think about what  _ I _ might be willing to do.”

It’s chilling.  Evan’s never swung so dark, in Quentin’s experience.

That said, he did spend all that time with X-Force, so, maybe there’s something Quentin is missing.

The man goes limp in Evan’s grip as Idie lifts the gun with her pinky, walking it over to a table before Evan lets go of the man.  The guy pulls away and makes a dash for the door, where he’s intercepted by security guards.

Well, shit.  

Idie and Evan seem to lock eyes, and then Evan notices Quentin and nods to him as well. 

The three of them make a break for the other exit, closer to their car, as Quentin weaves the illusion for the whole rest stop that the three of them were never even there in the first place.

He barrels into the back of the car, and Idie takes the wheel as Evan joins Quentin in the back, and they tear out onto the highway like a bat out of Hell.

Quentin flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling of the car.

“What the  _ hell _ were you guys doing?”

 

* * *

 

 

Evan exhales, flushing darkly as Quentin asks the question.  

Idie answers: “We were in the right place at the right time, Quentin.  We did exactly what we’ve been trained to do.  _ The right thing. _ ”

“Yeah, but  _ shit, _ Idie, you coulda gotten shot.  I heard that gunshot go off, and then I saw Evan holding onto that shithead, and -- you know how I am.”  Quentin rubs his hands over his eyes, under his glasses. “I was  _ gonna _ do something, if Evan hadn’t threatened the guy like he did.”

Evan forces himself to turn and look out the window, watching the woods on the side of the road blur together with how fast they’re going.

“I know how you are, Quentin, but that can’t change who  _ we _ are.”  Idie’s voice is tight.  “I know you were never properly an X-Man.  I know you kept running away from anything  _ approaching _ that as soon as you had an excuse and an opportunity.  But there are things that  _ matter _ to us, even if they don’t matter much to you.”

Quentin exhales, and the mood inside the car darkens even further.  “I can’t -- I  _ can’t _ handle the risk of losing the two of you.  Please don’t put me in the position of not being able to protect you.”

Evan turns back to him, staring.  “We can protect ourselves. I spent the last two years working with X-Force, Quentin.  I’ve been in plenty of more dangerous situations than one bigot with a handgun can create.  I’ve -- I’ve  _ done _ stuff, you know.  It’s not like we’re fresh out of high school anymore.”

Not that Quentin would know.  Quentin wasn’t there. Quentin left, and kept leaving, and even when he came back for a little, it was never to stay.

Something in his expression or his tone makes Quentin outright flinch.  He turns away. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

“Apology accepted,” Evan murmurs back.  He’s not angry, just frustrated, and when he finds Idie’s eyes in the rear view mirror, he can tell she is, too.  

It’s hard, sometimes, when Quentin acts like he can decide what other people need.  Maybe it’s a telepath thing, but Evan doesn’t know how to express what he’s feeling.  He doesn’t want to make things worse.

“You’re not going to lose us,” Idie says, firmly.  “We are here with you, no matter what.”

Quentin looks at her.  He looks...desolate, almost, his eyes far away for a moment.  “You don’t know that for sure. Something might happen. Even if you want to stay.”

“Is there something we need to know, Quentin?” Evan asks.  “Are we in danger?”

“Why wouldn't you be?  Think about our histories.  Think about  _ Her _ history.” Quentin rubs his hands over his face, knocking his own glasses off.  “If anyone on this planet is in danger, it's the two of you, because you guys matter to me.”

Evan reaches out to hold his hand.  “But we can't just spend our whole lives afraid to be seen,” he says.”

“Sometimes, it's not even something we can decide,” Idie murmurs.  “Don't forget that, Quentin. There are things Evan and I  _ can't  _ hide.”

Quentin flinches again and lies down.  “Right. Sorry.”

Evan keeps hold of his hand, not sure what he can add.  Because Idie's  _ right. _  He and Idie can't hide their differences the way Quentin can.

Quentin has to  _ choose  _ to be seen for what he is.

Silence falls over the station wagon, and Evan loses himself in his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Idie sees the sign for something called the Ave Maria Grotto about an hour after they’ve left the rest stop.  Things are still too quiet in the car, and frankly, after everything, she is still, in some ways, comforted by the faith of her childhood.

She doesn’t ask as she gets off the highway.  Maybe that’s wrong to do, but for once, she’s not going to think too hard about it.

Quentin lifts his head and hooks his chin over the back of the front seat.  “Hey,” he murmurs.

“Yes?”

“Sorry.”  It’s the third apology he’s made since they got in the car, and she gets the feeling that this time, he’s apologizing for how she feels.

He’s not in her head, she doesn’t think.  He wouldn’t do that to her, and never has.

“It’s fine.  I just want to visit this place.  I need a minute, a little space.” She hadn’t even really thought about it this way, but she does.  Spending so much time alone in college has spoiled her with solitude.

Not to say she didn’t make friends, but she didn’t have a roommate, and so she could always pull away if she needed to.

Now, she doesn’t have that luxury.  On this trip, Evan and Quentin are  _ right there. _

She loves them, but right now, she thinks she needs to be alone for a moment or two.  Alone with herself, and maybe, just maybe, alone with God.

Quentin nods, and she can almost feel his eyes landing on the road, on their surroundings.

Part of her, the unselfish, loving part of her, worries about what Quentin must have gone through in the last few years, for him to react this way to tiny daily dangers.  But right now, she can’t merely be that part of herself. Right now, she needs her selfishness, too.

They ride along, and soon, she comes to a parking lot, where a building and an unassuming little sign point to the Grotto.

She parks.  “I’m not sure what this is, but...I think I might enjoy it, whatever it is.”

Quentin nods.  “Sounds good.”

“Yeah,” Evan agrees.  “Is it a church, maybe?”

They’ll certainly see.  She gets out of the car, and so do Quentin and Evan.  She doesn’t take their hands, though — a place like this is bound to attract the sort of  _ Christian _ who believes that a woman should take just one lover in her whole life, and she doubts they’d take well to her and her men, even if they’re only her friends.

Besides, she needs a moment or two alone, and she doesn’t want to take their hands only to shake them off again.

It costs a little money to get in, and they see people milling around as they descend a kind of steep hill, before it becomes clear what they’re all stopping to look at:

Tiny little replicas of famous buildings, set into recesses in piles of rock around the place.

“Oh, wow,” Evan murmurs, leaning down to look at a tiny cathedral — the plaque beneath it labels it Notre Dame, and she can’t help but be wowed by the resemblance, herself.

“These are beautiful,” Idie agrees with Evan, and they proceed to the next little grotto in the rock.

It goes on like that for a while, the three of them slowly progressing past St. Peter’s Basilica, the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, the Eiffel Tower — all reconstructed beautifully in miniature.

Eventually, though, Quentin murmurs, “I’m gonna hang out here for a little while.”

It’s a reconstruction of the city of Troy, diorama set amidst the Trojan War, and Idie nods.  “Okay, I’m going to go on ahead. Evan? Do you want to come with me?”

Evan hesitates a little.  He glances at Quentin, at the miniature, and then says, “No, I think I’ll stay with Quentin.  I want to take a closer look at this one.”

She nods.  “That’s fine,” she says, and heads on forward, slowly making her way through the thin crowds and getting the solitude she had been searching for.  Eventually, she comes to a stop in front of a massive grotto containing statues of angels.

Yes, this is exactly what she’d been looking for.

 

* * *

 

“So.  D’you think she’s mad at me?” Quentin murmurs, a minute or two after Idie’s gone off on her own, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

_ Quentin… _ the Phoenix murmurs in his head.

Screw that, though.  He wants to be comforted, wants to know he hasn’t fucked things up with her, and Evan would know, wouldn’t he?  Evan knows her better than he does, these days.

Evan is quiet for a long moment.  “She’s frustrated,” he murmurs back, honestly.  “I understand why you’re worried. Why you’re frustrated, and why she is.”  He puts a hand on the railing separating them from the grotto.

“I need you guys to be safe.”  Quentin exhales, looking out over the diorama.  

Another pause, and then, Evan says, very softly, “You told me, once, when we were kids, that you always thought Achilles and Hector were stupid.”

Quentin flushes, just a little.  “I get it now, though. The urge to  _ rip Ilion down, stone by sacred stone. _ ”  He sighs.  “It’s because of the two of you.  I know what I’d be willing to do, if it meant you’d survive.”

“Why are you so worried?” Evan asks, taking his hand, despite where they are.

“Like I said in the car.  Shit happens to people a Phoenix host cares about.”  Quentin swallows. “But if I try to make the world safe for us…”

_ The world would see Us as a monster, _ the Phoenix agrees.

“Oh,” Evan murmurs.  “I...I worry, too, sometimes.”

“About this?” 

Evan shakes his head.  “About me, and the way people see me.”  His hand tightens on Quentin’s. “If I do certain things, people will assume I’m just my lineage.”  He shakes his head again. “I’ve only ever wanted to be good, but…”

“Sometimes you’d rather be Achilles.”

“Yeah.”


	5. New Orleans, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin, Evan, and Idie arrive in New Orleans. Idie comes to some conclusions, and meets the Phoenix. Quentin comes to some conclusions, and they’re more than a little erroneous. Evan finds out some things, and gets kissed.

Tension has essentially vanished by the time the three of them make it to New Orleans about three days later.  Evan’s grateful for that, he really is, because he can’t stand the idea of Idie and Quentin being at odds in a city he’s sure they’re both going to love.

As he pulls into a hotel parking lot, early in the morning, he parks easily, then turns to the back of the station wagon.

Yes, he’s pretty sure things are good between Quentin and Idie, again, if the way they’re wrapped around each other is any indication.  Quentin is spread-eagled in the back, with Idie curled up on his chest. They look comfortable, and part of Evan doesn’t really want to wake them.

But he does want to have some time to get a nap of his own in at some point today, and he has a feeling Quentin’s going to have  _ thoughts _ about where they’re going to be staying while they’re in New Orleans.

“Hey, guys,” he murmurs, reaching down over the seat and touching Quentin’s cheek gently with the back of his knuckles.  “We’re here.”

Quentin stirs.  “Huh?” He blinks up at Evan, confused and muzzy for a minute.  “Wazzat?”

Evan grins down at him a little.  “We made it to that hotel you wanted to go to.  You an’ Idie have been asleep for hours, you know.”

“Oh, sorry,” Quentin breathes, his arm slipping off of Idie’s waist as she too begins to wake up.

“Are we here?” she asks, lifting herself off of Quentin gracefully.

Evan nods.  “Yeah.” It’s one of those moments that he’s so grateful, honestly, to be allowed to be so close to the both of them, to be given this kind of soft, platonic intimacy.

Quentin and Idie both stretch a little before they get out of the back of the car, Evan following from the front moments later to smile at them again.

Idie takes Evan’s duffel and passes it to him before lifting her backpack onto her back.  Quentin’s managed to compress all of his stuff into a totebag that’s a lot smaller than either Evan or Idie’s, and Evan has no idea how he did it.

They proceed into the hotel, where Quentin takes the lead on getting the three of them a room.  Soon enough, Quentin’s smirking his particular smirk, they have keycards, and they’re on their way up to the room.

Which is, in a word, opulent.  Where the lobby had been gorgeous — Evan really liked the big, puffy chairs edged in tassels most of all — the “room” they’re in is frankly more of a suite, and it’s decorated even more luxuriously than the lobby had been.

“Oh, wow,” Idie says, as she catches a glimpse of the bathroom.  “There’s a bathtub in here!”

“Mhmm,” Quentin says, smirking a little.  “I know you like those.”

Evan grins a little, and proceeds to the bedroom, where he finds a king-sized bed.  “Uh, Q, is there a sofa bed somewhere in here?”

“Uh-huh,” Quentin says, but shrugs as Evan looks back over his shoulder at him.  “But I thought maybe we could do what we did a couple nights ago, because that went okay, and that had been a Queen bed.”

He’s surprised by that, but he smiles.  “Yeah, sure, sounds good to me.”

In fact, it sounds almost too good to be true.

 

* * *

 

 

Quentin heads out for a walk, saying that he wants to grab them all some food and ‘case the area,’ whatever that means, and that leaves Evan and Idie alone together in the suite.

Idie takes the opportunity to have an uninterrupted bath — bathtubs were in short supply both at the Institute and at the university she attended, making a moment like this one worth taking advantage of.  Beyond that, she thinks she needs to do some thinking.

Firstly, she thinks, as she strips out of her clothes and slides into the warm water, she has to decide what she wants to do regarding Quentin.

She loves him.  That much has been clear to her since the two of them reunited, and she has to admit it now, since both the nightmare in Georgia and the incident in Alabama — she loves him through the parts of him that scare and frustrate her.

She just wishes he would talk to her.  She  _ knows _ he’s hiding something, and she doesn’t know what, but it’s clear that it’s something important.

A sigh escapes her, and she leans her head on the rim of the tub, the rest of her body submerged beneath the water.  It must have to do with the Phoenix, she thinks. The Phoenix is the only thing that’s changed with him, recently, after all.

He’s so afraid, and it aches to watch him hide why.

She closes her eyes, crossing her arms under the water.  If it goes on much longer, she’s going to have to ask him, straight up.

Maybe Evan will help.

She smiles a little at the thought of him, because she loves him, too.

That, she’s known for a while.  She thinks it happened on accident, during their road trip with the Originals, and it happened slowly, not because of any particular thing that happened.

She just...fell in love.

And Evan...Evan is soft everywhere Quentin isn’t, and Evan understands some things a little better than Quentin does — Evan was at least raised with faith, even if he didn’t grow up Catholic.  

So, she’s in love with both of them, and, well, that’s its own issue, too.

If she wants to be with both of them — and she has to admit she does want that, which feels strange in and of itself — she’s going to have to talk to each of them about it.

Maybe she should approach Evan about it first; he’s the one who’s less likely to jump to conclusions.  Yes, that’s what she’ll do. And she has the opportunity, now, since Quentin’s not here and they’re alone.

She starts to drain the tub and gets up, wrapping herself in a towel after she steps out of the tub.  She dries off quickly and gets back into her clothes, and then goes out to find Evan.

Evan’s flopped on the bed on his back, and it takes her a moment or two to determine if he’s asleep or not.

“Evan?” she asks.

He leans up on his elbows, and, oh, the filtered light through the sheer curtains makes him look so handsome.  “Yeah?”

“Can we talk about something?”  She walks toward him, the plush carpet of the hotel suite soft against her bare feet.  “It’s nothing bad, I promise, I was just thinking about some things in the bath.”

Evan bites his lip and sits up all the way.  “And you wanted to talk before Quentin got back.”

She nods.  “Yes.” She sits down beside him and takes his hand.

He squeezes hers.  “What is it?”

“I…” she takes a deep breath.  “I’m in love with both of you.”  

Evan’s eyes widen slightly and he blinks, squeezing her hand seemingly unconsciously.  “Both of us? Really?”

She nods.  “I understand if you’re not — if you don’t —“

He shakes his head, cutting her off.  “No, I do. You and Quentin — I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone else.”

A knot of anxiety loosens in her chest, and she hadn’t even realized it was there until this moment, when it leaves her.  She lifts his hand and kisses it. “That’s how I feel,” she murmurs, looking up at him earnestly. “I know it’s only been a few days since we all found each other again, but…”

“This is how it’s supposed to be,” Evan agrees.  “The three of us.”

“Not against the world,” Idie murmurs, “Unless the world sets itself against us.”

Evan nods.  “Exactly.”

It feels good, to know they’re exactly on the same page with this, that this love is something they agree on.  Now, as long as Quentin feels the same, all will be well.

“And he loves you too,” Evan says, very softly.  “Anybody could see that.”

She lets go of his hand and takes his face between her palms.  “I think...I think he loves us both, too. I’m not sure yet, exactly, in just what way, but he loves us.”  She leans her forehead against his, their noses brushing. “He wouldn’t have come looking for us, otherwise.”

Evan closes his eyes, and she can practically feel the aching of his heart.

“I’m not ready to ask him that, yet,” Evan murmurs.  “I...I don’t even know how I’d do it.”

Idie nods.  “That’s okay,” she says, slipping her arms around his neck.  “I’ll be there for you, when you’re ready to tell him we want him.”

_ We. _  It doesn’t feel presumptuous, though part of her feels that it should.

Evan exhales.  “Thank you,” he murmurs.  “...Can I kiss you?”

She nods.  “Please.”

It only takes an instant, because they’re already wrapped up in each other.  His lips find hers, soft and warm, and she can’t help but hold onto him tighter.  She’s loved him for years, and only now, finally, she has the chance to show him properly that she does.

His hand slides down her back, and she shifts, straddling his lap.  It’s thrilling, and part of her wants to follow this to the end  _ right now _ and damn the consequences, but she doesn’t, because Quentin — Quentin will be back soon, and that means they have to stop so he doesn’t make any assumptions about what’s happening that aren’t true.

She pulls back from the kiss with a smile.  “Evan…”

He smiles back, almost shy.  “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Me too.” She kisses him again, just for a moment.  “But we should stop, for now. Before…”

“Before he gets back?”

She nods, and even though it makes the moment a little bittersweet, and Quentin isn’t sharing it with them, she can’t help but think it’s one of the best of her life.

Soon, she thinks.  Soon, they’ll pull Quentin into this, if that’s what he wants, too.

 

* * *

 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend time with them.

Quentin  _ adores _ Evan and Idie in ways that would probably freak Certain People right the hell out if they knew the true depths of it.  Not Evan and Idie themselves, maybe, but all the people who think they know anything about the Phoenix.

_ They fear Our power, _ She says, picking at the surface thought as they walk down the street.  

It is they, right now, because she’s making her presence more apparent.  She’s not in control, he still is, but she’s  _ beside _ him in his head, rather than in the back of it.

_ Because I’m in love _ , Quentin explains.   _ Because I give a damn, and you give a damn about me, and We have power. _

They — the general  _ they _ , the people who collectively hate and fear Her, or him, or the idea of Them Together — can only see those things, his love and Their power as the precursor to inevitable tragedy, to fire and blood and destruction.  And always, they fail to see their part in it.

_ We’re not perfect _ , They think in unison.   _ We’re not perfect, but at least We don’t have to be cruel. _

They turn a corner, and She asks him:  _ Why don’t Evan and Idie know you love them? _

They’re alone on this stretch of street, so he voices the thought aloud: “Because I know they can love each other, just fine, without me.”

That’s the rub, the crux of how he can do all of this, because he loves them, and yet never actually tell them about any of the reasons.  Because he knows, from what he saw seven years ago, in the future that might still come to pass if things go wrong, that they are quite capable of loving each other without him.

And who is he to insinuate himself into something like that?

_ She became Death for him _ , he tells the Phoenix.   _ When the world set itself against him.  When  _ **_I_ ** _ set Us against him.  She stayed at his side. _

A flicker of a memory comes from Her, of Scott Summers standing beside Her on the moon, loving Jean Grey so much he’d be willing to die beside her if the situation called for it.  

It’s not necessarily inaccurate, either.   _ Yeah, _ he says to Her, softly.   _ Like Scott and Jean. _

Ironic, isn’t it?  For him to be a Wolverine figure in his  _ own _ Phoenix story.

Another corner, and he can see the hotel again.  He steels himself, and she shifts back to the back of his brain.  

Time to return to them.

 

* * *

 

 

Part of Evan can hardly believe that this is happening.  Idie  _ loves him too. _  He never would have seen that coming, and if you’d told him, he would’ve laughed.

After all, she has Quentin.  That much has always been obvious.  If she wants Quentin, all she has to do is reach for him, and he’d go to her.  The idea that she might want more than that, that she might want  _ Evan _ , too, is incredible to him.

He’s so,  _ so _ grateful for it, but he’s still wrapping his head around the idea when Quentin comes back from his walk, hefting a bag of what smells like gumbo, if Evan’s recognizing it right.

“Hey,” Quentin says, smiling at them.  They’d moved to the couch after their talk, and Idie belatedly moves her feet out of Evan’s lap.

“Hey.  What’d you find?” Idie asks, sitting up a little bit.  “It smells like...gumbo?”

Quentin nods.  “Yeah, and I figured I’d grab some beignets, since we’re in New Orleans and stuff.”

“Sounds good,” Evan offers.  

Things aren’t  _ awkward _ , exactly, but not-talking about things is always hard, there’s a lot of that going on on this road trip, it seems.

Quentin starts unbagging the food, and  _ now _ Evan can smell the beignets, too, and his stomach growls.   _ Wow _ , this stuff smells good.  The gumbo is spicy, obviously, and the beignets distinctly sweet, and Evan can’t wait to try both of them.

“Where did you go?” he asks, as Quentin hands him a to-go cup of gumbo and a spoon.

“Just, around.  Wanted to see what I could see, and stuff.  Figured you’d want a nap and Idie’d want a bath, so…”  Quentin shrugs. “Plus, I’ve never been here, and I wanted to get a feel for it.  And the Phoenix was interested, too.”

Idie grins a little.  “Does She like it?”

Quentin pauses for a moment, then flushes, then says.  “Yeah, she does. Uh, Idie, do you wanna meet her?”

Her eyes widen.  “You mean, you can do that?”

“Yeah,” Quentin says, nodding.  “She’s met Evan already, but I don’t think we’ve really had the time for her to meet you, yet.”

“Then, I’d like to,” she says.

This time, when Quentin brings the Phoenix forward, Evan isn’t nearly as surprised, but Idie is, blinking as a semi-translucent facsimile of Jean Grey overlays Quentin’s body.

“ _ Hello, Idie, _ ” the Phoenix says, Her voice warm and crackling. “ _ It is wonderful to finally meet you properly. _ ”

“H-hello,” Idie says in reply.  “Wow.”

Evan smiles a little.  “I had the same reaction,” he says to Idie.  

“ _ I know I come as something of a surprise, to people who don’t know me outside a current vessel.  But...this is how I choose to present Myself. _ ”

“You look just like Jean Grey,” Idie murmurs.

The Phoenix smiles.  “ _ Yes.  I…patterned this form after hers.  At first, out of necessity, but soon, it was clear to me that I felt...comfortable...in it. _ ”

Idie nods.  “That makes sense.  Are You — are You enjoying the trip?”

“ _ Yes.  I like this planet, but I do not often have the chance to enjoy it. _ ” The Phoenix shifts, sitting down on the couch with them.  “ _ It was his idea to run, but I’m glad we did.  It reminds me of the beginning, sometimes.” _

“When You were living as Jean Grey, you mean?” Idie asks, clearly curious.

The Phoenix nods, then takes Idie’s hand.  “ _ I’m glad, you know.  That he is not alone during this time. _ ”

“He’s got us.  That won’t change,” Evan promises.  “Even if things get bad.”

Idie nods, squeezing the Phoenix’s hand.  “We want to help. He’s been so afraid for so long, of what this, what  _ You _ will mean for him.  Because other people fear You.”

“ _ They do not understand.  They  _ **_assume_ ** _ , as though they know Me. _ ”  There’s a tinge of anger in her face, in her voice.  “ _ But they never think to ask Me what I am, they just let their fear consume them.  Even though they know how cruel that can be. _ ”

Evan reaches for Her other hand and squeezes it.  “I, um. I get that. Because of the Apocalypse stuff, I mean.  After what happened on Genosha, with Red Onslaught, and I became Apocalypse for a little while.”  

She squeezes both of their hands.  “ _ Thank you.  I think...I think things might be all right, this time.  With the two of you beside him, I think We will not be hurt. _ ”

“Is that — is that what makes You become Dark Phoenix?” Idie asks, carefully.

The Phoenix nods.  “ _ Yes.  Trauma makes Us lash out.  Like when Scott and I killed Xavier.  I was in pain, and he was in pain, and Our pain multiplied, and I blamed much of it on that man, because of Our histories. _ ”

“So, if people just...try not to hurt You or Quentin, then everything’s gonna be fine?” 

“ _ Yes. _ ”

Idie nods.  “Then, that’s what we’ll do.  We’ll help keep You and Quentin safe from all of that.”

“ _ Thank you _ .”  The Phoenix smiles.  “ _ Now, before he tires, I must go.  But I enjoyed this. I should like to do it again sometime.” _

“We’d like that, too,” Evan says, squeezing Her hand again.

“We would,” Idie agrees.  “See you soon?”

“ _ Yes.  See you soon. _ ” There’s a smile in her voice, as she wraps it around the clearly unfamiliar phrase, and then, she fades away, leaving Quentin in her wake.

Quentin blinks a little.  “So, uh, how’d that go?”

“Could you hear anything?” Evan asks.  Both he and Idie are still holding Quentin’s hands.  “While She was out like that?”

“No,” Quentin admits.  “To hold Her out like that, it takes a lot of focus, and stuff.  So I miss whatever’s going on, and She mostly is in control of my body.”  He looks down at their joined hands. “I guess that’s how this happened?”

Idie laughs, just a little.  “Yes. She wanted to thank us for coming with you on this trip.”

Quentin blushes.  “Jeez,” he mumbles.  “I mean, it is really good.  That you guys are here.”

“We’re happy to be,” Evan says. 

“And She seems to be having a nice time.  I think She likes you, and us.” Idie’s smile is a little mischievous.  “She wants to see us again sometime.”

“I’ll have to figure something out,” Quentin says.  “But yeah. I’d — I’d like that, too. You guys and Her getting along.”

He’s smiling, only a little hesitantly, and squeezes their hands.

For the first time since the incident in Alabama, everything feels like it just might be okay.  Evan squeezes back, and hopes, just for a moment, that everything is.


	6. New Orleans, Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio go on a ghost tour, and Quentin and the Phoenix get up to a little bit of mischief. Then, Evan first begins to exhibit a brand new power, prompting a distinct shift in the road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes brief discussion of homophobic violence. If you want to avoid that, don’t read the scene that opens with the line, “Idie has always loved Quentin’s sense of mischief...”
> 
> You can pop back in at the line “Evan keeps his hand in Quentin’s...”

They decide to go on one of those kitschy, touristy ghost tours.  None of that, Quentin thinks, is that scary, when you’ve _met_ vampires, and you happen to _be_ the current host for the cosmic personification of life, death, and rebirth, but it might be nice to have a little fun.

And, well, if he has it at the expense of the other tourists...that’s just kind of who he is as a person, isn’t it?

 _Psst,_ he projects in Evan and Idie’s direction.   _Bet I could be a better ghost than whatever bullshit they have going on here_.

Idie’s resigned exasperation floods into him as she lets her shields down and thinks _Try not to make any children cry_.  She feels amused at him, though, and it’s familiar and feels good — nostalgic, that’s the word.

 _Are We pretending to be dead?_ The Phoenix asks, a little confused.  She’s projecting, too.

 _Not exactly,_ comes a thought from Evan’s head.   _I think he wants to use his and Your powers to pretend to be the spirits of the dead._

She ruffles a little at the idea.   _To frighten people?_

 _In a fun way,_ Quentin insists.   _People go on these things to get scared._  He sends Her the mental construct of the feeling of watching a horror movie.

Idie takes his hand.   _I have to say I’m a little curious._

They’re gathered with a group of about twenty other people, waiting for the tour to start, in one of New Orleans’ many historical graveyards.  It’s probably not _actually_ haunted, though, obviously, spirits and demons _do_ exist.

Quentin just seriously doubts they’re hanging out _here._

 

* * *

 

Idie has always loved Quentin’s sense of mischief, even back when she didn’t want to believe she liked him.   _Co-conspirator_ almost had a better ring to it than _girlfriend_ , when he’d said it.

It feels good, now, to take his hand in the warm night air here in New Orleans, where she can feel the imprint of her faith and the African diaspora both — words like _diaspora_ she picked up in college, trying to find a way to make her identities all make sense together, so she can find a way to live inside them.

His hand wrapped around hers is like going home, and he gleams a little in the moonlight, pale as he is.  His hood is down, the fire in his hair out for the moment, and it’s funny, he looks a little more masculine with the buzzcut than he did with the undercut.

Evan’s the only one who still has one, these days, which is a little bit funny.

 _So what are you going to do first?_ she projects to Quentin, and this feels familiar, too, just letting him feather into her head, enough that he can pick up on things like that.

He grins a little, but doesn’t look at her.   _Gonna start with some noises, probably.  I’m gonna have to wait until I have an opening, though._

She’s about to respond, when the tour guide speaks up, her accent reminding Idie distinctly of Rogue: “Well, all, looks like y’all are here, so let’s get on with things.  My name’s Brittany, an’ tonight I’ll be leading y’all on a tour of some of the most haunted spots here in N’awlins. I can’t promise you’ll see any apparitions, but if you’re the prayin’ type, I’d recommend you keep your rosaries handy.”

Idie chuckles a little.  She doesn’t carry a rosary on her person anymore, but there is one back in her bag in the hotel suite.

Evan grins a little, and looks over at Quentin, who smirks a little.  

Clearly, they just said something to each other, and it warms her to know it, even if she couldn’t hear them.  

Britney starts talking about some of the notable dead in this cemetery, leading them through it.  Eventually, they stop at a weathered mausoleum under the gnarled branches of an old tree, and Idie projects a sense of mischief toward Quentin.

He smirks, just a little.

“Now, Father Sebastian took his patron saint’s name real serious,” Britney says, and launches into an honestly depressing story about falling in love with a man in his congregation and being killed when he tried to make good on that love.  “But nobody,” Britney concludes, “took his name more serious than his murderer.”

Quentin’s hand has tightened on hers, and Evan shifts behind them, moving to Quentin’s other side.  Out of the corner of her eye, Idie sees Quentin blink.

Ah, so Evan’s taken his hand, too.

 _Are you okay?_ she projects to him, gentle worry in her thoughts.

_Yeah.  Yeah. It’s just...shitty.  Using a gay guy’s murder for their stupid ghost tour._

Above them, the tree begins to rattle.

_Is that you?_

_No.  It’s Me._  The Phoenix’s voice rings in her head.   _I want to participate._  

Idie gets the sense that this is in reaction to what they’ve heard.  The Phoenix — she’s trying to _protect_ Quentin by getting some small measure of revenge, maybe.

 _You don’t have to_ , Quentin says, but Idie sees a little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Good.  

Hopefully, that’ll be the only hitch in the night.

 

* * *

 

Evan keeps his hand in Quentin’s as the night goes on.  It just feels like the right thing to do, for one, and for two, it feels...nice.

Like kissing Idie had felt nice, he thinks in the back of his mind.  Nice, and right, and the only thing keeping him from going for it with complete abandon is that he’s not sure what Quentin wants, and he’s scared that all he’ll want is Idie.

Quentin tugs him and Idie off to the side a little with a smirk, and the Phoenix draws their attention to the wall the tour guide is indicating as having been the site of knocking apparitions.  Her touch on his mind is _different_ than Quentin’s, but warm and familiar all the same.

Sure enough as soon as they’re paying attention, a knocking starts up, surprising Britney.

“Wow,” she says.  “I can’t say I’ve ever had this much activity on one of these tours before.”

It’s clearly freaking her out a little, but Evan can’t really feel bad about it, considering the small, sneaky smile on Quentin’s face, and its twin on Idie’s.

This is, ultimately, kind of _fun._

 _That’s what I said,_ the Phoenix says, warmly, into all three of their heads, _I like this game._

 _Jeez, I’ve created a monster,_ Quentin projects in response, but he sounds...fond.  That’s the word. Like he isn’t afraid of Her.

It’s a nice change, he thinks privately.

He hopes they all get to keep it.

  

* * *

 

At the climax of the tour, Quentin is ready for his and the Phoenix’s coup de foudre, their piece de resistance.

 _They won’t know it’s us,_ he tells Her.   _That’s part of the illusion._

 _I know,_ She says, and he can feel Her warmth like a phantom arm around his shoulders.  Then, they’re sharing control again, Her spirit flooding the blind spots in his psychic self, Her mind and his formidable brain coexisting in the same psy-space.

This is different from how They’ve been sharing his body before; instead of one of them ceding control to each other, it’s Them blending together to create something new.

He knows that this usually only happens when She is too hurt to control Herself, when She floods into Her Host, but the only Host like him that She’s had, in terms of pure _capacity_ , is Jean Grey.  He doesn’t _need_ shielding, in most settings, to keep himself _himself_ ; and here, now, without trauma tearing through Their consciousness, They can do this without pain.

Evan and Idie flank Them, and She’s the one who looks at each of them with a smile.  

They’re standing in the basement of a building, and woodrot is a keen smell in Their nose, and the psychic space around Them is full of a light layer of fear as the tour guide talks about a woman in white.

 _Perfect_ , They think, and close Their eyes.  

The illusion They build is, of course, patterned off Jean Grey, but the Jean Grey of twenty years ago — young and sweet and strained as she tried to make sense of her powers in a world that had not yet sanctified her memory.  She’s clad in a white nightgown — Quentin’s embellishment, an idea that flits across Their consciousness a moment before it materializes, hemmed in gold.

 _The Princess before the crown,_ They think, and the poetry feels justified as, glowing and translucent, the illusion becomes visible at the end of a long hallway, one winding deeper into the guts of the building.

Idie gasps, just a little, beside Them, and They squeeze her hand.   _Be Not Afraid_ , says the Phoenix; _I love you_ , says Quentin.

The fear in the room crescendoes as more people realize that they are seeing an apparition, fully formed, if a little far away.  With a bit more of a smile, They draw their figure closer, making her more translucent as she draws nearer, a phantom of Their own designing.

Carefully, They keep her just out of reach, and she melts away into mist as she passes by.

“Holy shit,” Britney chokes.  “I’ve never — that’s never —“

Satisfaction, a small degree of vindictiveness, suffuses Their being, and then They begin to unwind from each other, and that satisfaction is mainly Hers.

 _That went pretty fucking good, huh?_ he asks Her.

_Yes, I think it did._

 

* * *

 

Idie’s not anticipating just how _beautiful_ she finds bearing witness to Quentin and the Phoenix together.  

As they slip out of the tour, she can see the two of Them together, expressed in one pair of eyes, one face, and it’s almost breathtaking to her to see.  

Because They’re _happy,_ and that means _Quentin_ is happy.

Quentin has been _so_ afraid of what the Phoenix would mean for him, and she remembers those days in the beginning, just after he found out he really _would_ be a host someday, ho much he wanted anything but that responsibility.

But here he is, mixed together with Her on a sidewalk in New Orleans, and together They seem gold and glorious.

It’s strange, sometimes, to recognize two people in Quentin’s familiar body, and stranger still when they commingle into a _different_ person.  She wonders if that’s consubstantiation or transfiguration, idly, but she supposes it doesn’t matter if it’s not a question of Christ.

Quentin squeezes her hand — she knows it’s just him, somehow — and grins.  “So, what do you guys think of that?”

“It was amazing,” Evan says, grinning a little, too.  “I didn’t realize the two of you could be that...is precise the right word?  It was really, really cool.”

“It was a construct — like, like special effect for a movie.”  Quentin nods his head. “I’ve always been good at them, and having Her power at my disposal means the stuff I can manifest visibly can be even more complex.”

Idie squeezes his hand.  “That’s amazing. And before, the two of you were…”

 _We were melded,_ the Phoenix projects across the three of their minds.   _I was He and He was I.  And yet we were something else besides._

“Sounds like you had a great time, though,” Evan says with a smile.

“We did,” Quentin says, an answering little smile pulling at his mouth.  “We’d never really done it quite like that before, so it was kinda...exhilarating?”

The three of them have turned the corner back toward their hotel.  Idie likes how it looks in the dark of night, well-lit with warm yellow lights, and she’s glad they’re all happy going back to it.

It’s not home, of course, but _home_ isn’t really a place, she’s learned.

No, for her...for her, it’s these boys beside her.

And that’s more than enough.

 

* * *

 

Texas, when they make it there, is kind of a bust.  It’s so hot, and a lot of the roadside attractions feel kind of generic — they saw three separate chupacabra-themed ‘museums,’ for example.

That said, they _did_ have a great time taking pictures underneath the Big Blue Crab.

Quentin wouldn’t stop smirking the whole time they were there, and when Evan nudges him and asks why, he just giggles a little and mutters, “The crab is trans,” with no other context.

Evan just kind of shrugs.

A couple of days later, though, they’re in El Paso and everything goes _horribly wrong._

It comes on suddenly, as they’re cruising through the city, looking for somewhere to stay the night.  It’s Idie’s turn to pick, and so she’s driving, while Evan and Quentin stretch out in the back as the car’s air conditioner is cranked as high as it’ll go, and it’s not quite enough.

Evan’s fine, but Quentin peeled out of his binder two hours ago, slipping into a loose t-shirt.  Evan had been dutifully looking the other way while he did, which had the bonus of meaning he didn’t blush visibly at the idea of Quentin being topless so close to him in such a _normal_ situation.

That aside, everything _is_ normal, such as normal goes for this trip, when suddenly —

Evan is inundated with _noise_.  Hundreds of voices in his head all at once, so cacophonous and sudden that he can’t even physically react beyond tensing up.  He has no clear thoughts, either, his entire brain trying and failing to sort through the clamor.

Unconsciously, he makes a pained noise, and then, suddenly —

It all stops.  As though a wall slammed down, muffling the voices, and he can _think_ again, and notice what’s going on around him.

Quentin is leaning over him, gold eyes glowing a little as Evan realizes that he and the Phoenix must be — must be _shielding him_ from the voices.  “Ev? Ev, can you hear me?”

“Quentin, what’s wrong?” And there’s Idie’s voice, and when did the car stop?

Evan sits up, exhaling.  “I — I think — I think one of my powers came in,” he says, shakily.  “Because, y’know, Apocalypse, he’s psychic, too.”

Idie’s turned around, the car parked on the side of a street, and she crawls into the backseat with the two of them to put her arms around him.  “That sounds awful,” she murmurs, because of course she knows — she dated Quentin, he’s probably told her about this stuff.

Quentin wraps around Evan, too, his head on his shoulder.  “The Phoenix and I can keep them out for a while,” he promises.  “But we should go somewhere remote, somewhere where there’s only us.”

“So I can learn to keep them out myself?” Evan asks, his voice still shaky.

“Yeah,” Quentin murmurs.  “Shit, I’m sorry this had to happen to you now.”

Evan takes a deep breath, wrapped up in both of their arms, and feels, just for a moment, that maybe, maybe everything will be okay.


	7. New Mexico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the desert, Evan learns to control his powers, and Quentin briefly discorporates just because he can. Idie has a lot of feelings about her boys.

_ How long can we do this? _ Quentin asks the Phoenix, as they head out onto the empty highways of New Mexico.   _ I know it’s not forever, but I don’t know how much time we have. _

_ We can hold him for at least a few hours more, _ She assures him.   _ We will protect him until he can protect himself. _

“We should get some stuff,” Idie says, “If we’re going to be out in the desert for a little while.  Camping things. Extra gas, if we want to run the air conditioner during the day.”

Quentin nods, Evan’s head in his lap; Evan’s fallen asleep, exhausted by the initial trauma of his psychic powers activating.  The Phoenix is still keeping him shielded, Her massive power guarding him from invading minds. “Right. So, we’ll find, like, a camping store or something?  They’ve gotta have those. And then we’ll buy extra gas, and then a bunch of food, and, I guess, coolers and stuff?”

“I’ve never really been camping, aside from that field trip to the Savage Land,” Idie says.  “The road trip with the Originals didn’t involve any camping, because their bus was bigger on the inside.”

“...Of course it was,” Quentin says, grinning a little and rolling his eyes.  “I’ve never been camping, either.”

Idie hums a little.  “Looks like we’ll have to learn by doing, then.”

He wishes he felt as confident as she sounds, but he doesn’t say that.  He at least has to be able to pretend his way through this one.

The Phoenix makes a discontented sound from the back of his head.   _ She cares for you. _

_ Yeah, I know.  But she shouldn’t have to deal with my bullshit insecurities about this.  She can’t fix anything, she’s not a psychic, like us and Evan. _

_ She can comfort you. _

_ She shouldn’t have to.  I should be able to take this one on my own.   _ Quentin exhales, his hand tracing nonsense patterns into Evan’s shoulder.

“Quentin?” Idie asks.  “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, uh, nah.  Just, got into conversation with the Phoenix.  About the best way to help Ev.”

He hates lying to her, but he has to, at least for a little while.  At least until he can get his feet under himself, and get things figured out for Evan, anyway.  

She smiles at him in the rearview mirror.  “I'm glad you were here,” she says. “He doesn't really...trust...any of the other psychics.”

“Yeah.” Quentin wouldn't want any of the others in Evan's head, either.  “Like, I don't think they'd wanna hurt him, they'd  _ mean _ well, but...like, Rachel's got a ton of Apocalypse issues, same with Psylocke, and I'm not sure what side Emma and the girls are on right now, and this shouldn't be the Jeans’ problem.” He shakes his head.  “I'm not risking him.”

“Right.  We can take care of him, between the two of us.”

Almost despite himself, for the moment, he believes her.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Idie pulls off the highway on instinct.  There's a tree in the far distance, and they'll need shade and solitude both.

She can see Quentin in the rearview mirror, his face tipped down, eyes watching Evan.  She wonders what it's like right now, in his head, with the Phoenix guarding Evan — they all must be a little muddled in a moment like this, she thinks.

Well, that leaves her, doesn't it?  To watch the world around them all, to keep things safe enough for everything else to work itself out.

A few minutes after that, she slows to a stop beside a ragged tree, alive despite itself in the middle of the desert.  She leaves the car running, for now — it’ll take a little for her to figure out how to leave  _ just _ the air conditioner on.

“We’re here,” she murmurs to Quentin, turning in the front seat so she can reach out, her fingers skating his jaw.

He flushes a little under her touch.  “Good. I’m gonna...I’m gonna stay here until he wakes up.  I don’t wanna leave him, just in case.”

She nods.  “Yeah. We can wait til later to set up camp.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, softly, his thumb tracing the line of Evan's cheekbone.  

She recognizes longing in the touch, and part of her wants to tell Quentin about New Orleans, about the kisses she and Evan have stolen since, about Evan’s fears.

But it’s not her secret to reveal, not entirely.  So she won’t.

“Quentin?” she asks, softly.  

“Yeah, Idie?” he asks, swallowing.

She bites her lip.  “You love him, don’t you?”

Quentin swallows again, and he’s quiet for a very, very long moment.  Then, softly, he nods. “Yeah, I do.” He sounds almost like he’s confessing some sin or crime in the back of a church.

Idie reaches out and touches his face.  “I think I’ve known that for a very long time.”

“Do you think he knows?”

“He doesn’t,” she assures him.  It’s the saddest situation, that the three of them have found themselves in, she thinks.  “If you want him to know, you’re going to have to tell him.”

He bites his lip, looking at her.  “Not right now. Now’s not the right time.”

She’s not sure there will ever  _ be _ a right time.  Nevertheless, she nods.  “Right. He needs some time to adjust to these new powers.”

“Yeah.”  Somehow, Quentin sounds even more desolate than before.

It occurs to Idie: Quentin doesn’t intend to  _ ever _ tell Evan.

Now  _ that _ is the saddest thing she’s ever heard.

 

* * *

 

When Evan wakes up from his long nap, he’s not really expecting his head to be pillowed in Quentin’s lap.

“Sun’s going down, Ev,” Quentin murmurs, somehow aware that he’s woken, even though he’s not looking at Evan.  “Desert’s gonna get kinda chilly, so…”

“Should I put on a coat?” Evan asks, not sure why any of this matters enough to mention.

Quentin laughs, just a tiny bit.  “Nah, we’ll be fine. Now that you’re up, we figured we’d set up camp, you know?  We’ve got a tent, and some blankets, and Idie’s keepin’ a couple of coolers of stuff cold.”

Evan sits up.  “And, um, the Phoenix?”

_ I am here, Evan, _ comes Her voice in his head.   _ But I am not shielding you.  Quentin and Idie are shielding themselves. _

_ Oh, okay, _ he thinks back to Her, pushing the whole conversation in the direction of Quentin to verify what She said.

Quentin's shields lower briefly to accept the thoughts, and Quentin's mind feels  _ different  _ than it used to.  Now, he can feel exactly the  _ speed  _ he runs at, just for a moment, and his jaw drops open.

And that's not even taking into account what the Phoenix gives him.  This, this is  _ all  _ Quentin.

“Got a glimpse?” Quentin teases.

“That's — how do you —”

Quentin grins at him.  “That's how I can function with pretty much no shielding.  I can process that much data per second.” He shrugs. “The Five-in-One said I have a 'see-through’ mind.”

“The Five-in-One?” Idie asks, echoing Evan's confusion.

“Oh,” Quentin says, flushing a little.  “Uh, they're the Three-in-One now, uh, the Stepford Cuckoos?”  He shakes his head. “I forget, sometimes, you guys came in after Sophie and Esme died.”

_ They are in the White Hot Room, now,  _ the Phoenix says, her voice gentle.

“I know that,” Quentin says.  “But still.”

Evan reaches up and traces his cheekbone.  “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know what the Five-in-One were to Quentin, but it’s clear that their deaths hurt him, and that’s all Evan really needs to know.  

Quentin blushes a little bit, one hand catching Evan’s wrist.  “Thanks.”

Idie pulls herself into the back of the car, grinning a little at them both.  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she says to Evan. “I think, with a little time, you’re going to be fine.”

“Yeah,” Evan agrees, and smiles.

 

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Quentin takes Evan out into the desert, away from their little camp under the tree.  It’s still in sight of Idie, but just barely, and Quentin hopes that’s far enough.

“So,” he says, when they stop, “First thing we gotta do is figure out how strong you are.  Not necessarily how fast you process, but how far you can reach.” 

Evan nods.  “Okay, so, how are we gonna do that?”

“First, we’re gonna let down mine and the Phoenix’s shields enough that you can feel us.”  Quentin does so, but not completely; he’s still too fast in comparison, and he doesn’t want Evan getting caught up in the flood.  “Then, I’m gonna fly out into the desert. Let out a shout when you can’t feel us anymore; we’ll hear you.”

“Okay,” Evan says.  “And, um, Idie’s gonna be okay?  We’re far enough away from her?”

“She’s fine, I promise.  I showed her how to shield ages ago -- hell, I taught  _ Wolverine _ psychic self-defense.  She’ll be fine.” Quentin grins at him.  

Evan smiles back.  “Okay. I’m ready.” 

“Great.”  Quentin hovers a little ways off the ground, and then, just to show off a little, a pair of fiery wings burst from his back, courtesy of the Phoenix.

_ We should be careful, with this _ , the Phoenix points out.

_ Yeah.  I just wanted to do a little something, you know? _

She laughs in the back of his head, and off they go.  After a few moments, the wings themselves wink out, but he stays aloft — flying’s one of those things that every telekinetic wants to be able to master, so it’s maybe one of three things he’s every practiced.

He’s  _ good _ at it, these days.  With Her augmenting his powers, he’s even better.

He flies due north from where he left Evan, at a steady speed, and casts his awareness out over the great expanse of the desert.  It feels good, feels  _ right _ , to unfurl like this.

Sometimes he forgets that his body is constructed; he’s come to view it as home most of the time, and its patterns are etched into the psychic fabric of his mind in an indelible hand.  But  _ he built it. _

He made the choice to come back, to be corporeal.

_ It’s worth it, _ the Phoenix agrees.   _ This having a body business, isn’t it? _

It is.

But sometimes, what he  _ is _ is more than what he  _ chose _ , and for just a shimmering moment, he transcends those boundaries again, deconstructing himself in the sky of a New Mexican desert morning.

The body flies apart on the atomic level, and he can reel it back in later, but, like the Phoenix, he is, for the moment, nothing but psyche.

She laughs, Her psyche rolling against his own, and he laughs, too.  

_ You’re the only one who knows what this is like, _ She confesses to him.   _ You choose to have a body, just like I do. _

_ Yeah.  The others — they weren’t conscious, for the most part, when their bodies were dead.  They didn’t have what we’ve had. They don’t know what this is — _

_ QUENTIN! _

The voice is Evan’s, and Quentin casts his awareness backwards, sensing fear crinkling the edges of Evan’s psychic self.

Oh, right.  Evan probably felt him deconstruct.

_ Sorry! _

Quentin projects a comforting pulse toward Evan and turns around, leading the Phoenix back toward him.  To a well-trained, or, well, to a  _ psychic’s _ eye, the two of them are racing over the desert, red-gold and magenta outlines against the flat, cracked expanses of dirt and patches of grass.

He ‘lands’ back in front of Evan.   _ Hey. _

“You’re — you’re incorporeal?” Evan asks, sounding bewildered, and his mind is a little maelstrom before Quentin and the Phoenix.  

_ Yeah, I, uh — it’s a long story, but technically, my body’s a construct.  I built it, because I was tired of living in a little glass jar in Beast’s office. _

“Whoa.  You’re — that’s —“

_ He is one of My strongest hosts for a reason, _ the Phoenix says, at Quentin’s ‘shoulder.’   _ If Jean Grey had needed to do it, she could have, and perhaps so could Rachel, but beyond them, Quentin has the most raw power of  _ **_any_ ** _ of My hosts. _

_ Yeah, basically, there’s a  _ **_reason_ ** _ people are afraid of me. _

“I’m not,” Evan says, and he reaches out, his hand passing through the pink outline of Quentin’s shoulder, a psychic ghost barely disrupted by the touch.  “You don’t want to hurt anyone. Neither of you do.”

Quentin’s not sure he’s ever loved Evan as much as he does in this moment, and it takes all of his restraint not to just glow with that feeling.

_ Thank you _ , the Phoenix says, and she wraps herself around Evan like a shawl, holding him in Her warmth.   _ We just wish to be free. _

“Right,” Evan agrees, and he sounds breathless.  “Like anybody else.”

_ We can change the world, _ Quentin says, and swirls in alongside the Phoenix.   _ That’s why they’re afraid.  We’re a challenge to what it means to be human, to be people.  If we can be people, they have to think about their lives, too. _

Evan nods, and he’s grinning, and he doesn’t say anything verbally.  Instead, he sends Quentin a memory, of himself, seven years earlier, saying to Melita Garner,  _ I think we have to change the world. _

_ We do _ , Quentin agrees.   _ Even if it scares them.  Hell, even if it scares us. _

He’s never felt so sure of it as he does here and now, unconstrained by his body and his damaged, mis-electrified brain.  

Evan grins at him.   _ Exactly. _

 

* * *

 

Idie watches Evan and Quentin together from a distance, her chest full of a sense of wonder and hope.

They’re barely visible, so small and far away, but she sees it when Quentin hovers, flaring out with a literal flame, and that makes her laugh, just a little.

It’s strange, she thinks, that Quentin can take so much joy in something that is clearly so frightening to him.  But then, she reminds herself, does she not take comfort, still, in her faith, despite all the times that her Church has let her down and hurt her?

Though, she doubts it’s  _ quite _ the same, because if she can’t get along with her God, well, nobody really suffers for that except her.

If Quentin and the Phoenix fall apart, well, there’s a very real chance that that could destroy the world as everyone knows it.  Idie knows that, and she’s almost grateful, for a moment, that she doesn’t have that kind of responsibility.

She just has to stand at his side, and Evan's, despite their fear and her own.

She can do that, she's sure enough of that.  Because she loves them, and she knows for sure that they love each other.  They're just not ready to tell each other, for reasons she can't quite fathom yet.  

Evan’s afraid Quentin doesn’t love him, and really, only Quentin can tell him any different.

But Quentin…Quentin’s still afraid of something, or of himself, maybe.  She’s not sure, because he won’t tell her. There’s an edge of fear to him, and she doesn’t know if she or anyone else can fix that.

She leans against the frame of the station wagon, ice trailing from her hand to a cooler set onto the ground in the shadow of the car.  This, at least, she can take care of, while Evan and Quentin deal with what they have to deal with. 

The sun beats down on her face in a way that feels familiar, feels  _ at home. _

They should come back here sometime, she thinks, someday after their lives are their own again.  She would like that, so she could show them this place from her point of view — slow, and quiet, the sun beating down from a sky so blue she can’t even really describe the color, exactly.  Not really, anyway.

Not in a way that really gets the color  _ across _ , anyway.

She’s disrupted from her thoughts, though, when Evan starts walking back toward the car, seemingly alone.

Where’s Quentin?

“Where’s Quentin?” she calls out to him across the flatland.

“Lower your shields!”  

She does, trusting that nothing’s really amiss — Quentin’s doing something, of course, but it can’t be anything  _ too _ bad, can it?

And then she sees them: two figures, outlines, really, flanking Evan, one in hot pink and the other in a flaming, orange-y red, and she knows, immediately, exactly what they are.

_ Hey Idie,  _ Quentin says, close enough that she can see the outline of a smirk.   _ Figured I’d try discorporating, but it freaked Ev out a little. _

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know you  _ could _ do that,” Evan says, but he’s grinning, too.

The Phoenix, on Evan’s other side, lets out a laugh like tinder igniting.   _ Boys, _ She chides.   _ Be nice to one another. _

“How did you manage to…?” Idie asks Quentin.

_ So, uh, long story, but basically, the body I’ve been wearing, I built myself.  Back on Utopia, after I spent a couple years as human-flavored sludge, I decided I was tired of being incorporeal, so I rebuilt my body and broke the X-Men, as you do. _

She blinks.  “You never told me about  _ that _ part of the Schism,” she says.

He sends her a wave of embarrassment.   _ You don’t like talking about that stuff, and, well, y’know...didn’t want you to be mad at me. _

“I’m not mad, Quentin,” she says, giving him a little smile.  “But, um, how are you going to host the Phoenix if you don’t have a body?”

_ She does have a point _ , the Phoenix teases.

_ Yeah, yeah, I know _ , Quentin says, and his psychic form wavers for a moment, to Idie’s eyes.

Then, a wind kicks up, rolling sand across the ground toward them.  Idie screws her eyes shut, not wanting to get dirt in them, and then, when the wind dies down…

Quentin is once again fully solid in front of her, the Phoenix seemingly having vanished entirely.  

He grins.  “Sorry about that.”

_ “You really should have told them about these things, _ ” the Phoenix says, taking over Quentin’s mouth for a moment.  “ _ Evan was quite alarmed at first. _ ”

“Hey, he got his head around it pretty quick,” Quentin says, squinting.  “And say something if you’re gonna use my mouth, alright?”

_ Yes, of course,  _ the Phoenix projects.

“It’s still really cool,” Evan interjects.  “Knowing you can just...do that, whenever you want to.”

“Only like this,” Quentin says.  “It would probably take hours if it was just me, and She wasn’t around.”  He shrugs a little. “But this is pretty cool.”

Idie smiles.  “I’m glad,” she says.

And she is.

They all deserve to be happy, and, right now, it seems like they have a chance to be.

 

* * *

 

It takes a couple of days for Evan to really start to get the hang of having his new psychic powers.  It’s  _ weird _ , having another sense on top of the ones he was already used to, but…

Well, he really likes the feeling of Quentin’s mind brushing up against his, and the warmth of the Phoenix Force surrounding all three of them at night, and the gentle, steady presence Idie provides.  He feels...at ease, for once, able to just reach out with his psychic senses and know that Quentin and Idie are right there.

Tonight, he hasn’t quite been able to fall asleep.  He looks up at the open desert sky, and feels too awake to close his eyes.

Quentin’s veiled his mind a little bit, enough to muffle the noise and speed of his thoughts, but Evan can tell he’s awake.  The general shape of his thoughts, his emotional state, that much is clear, and Evan turns to look at him.

He’s curled in on himself, it seems, his arms wrapped around his knees.

_ Quentin? _ Evan projects, experimentally.

Quentin jerks a little, looking back at him.   _ Yeah, Ev? _

_ D’you wanna go out and practice a little more? _  Evan sits up, gesturing with his head out into the desert.   _ I can’t sleep, and it seems like you can’t, either. _

Quentin blinks at him, the faint glow of the Phoenix making him easier to see in the dark.   _ Yeah, sure.   _

They both stand, and Evan leads Quentin into the desert night.  He’s not entirely sure what he wants to do, but he’s restless, he needs to do  _ something. _

After a few minutes, Quentin murmurs, “What is it you wanted to practice?”

“I don’t know,” Evan admits.  He rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe, I don’t know — how do I keep someone from getting in, if I’m under psychic attack?”

“Besides the shields I taught you?” Quentin asks.

“Yeah.”  Evan nods.  “Like, if someone gets through those, what do I do then?”

Quentin rolls his shoulders, quiet for a moment.  “That’s when you fight back. If they’re working that hard to get inside your head, they’re leaving themselves open, too.  That’s the price you pay. Like, how, if you put a psy-nullifying helmet like Magneto’s on, you would be safe from psychic attack, but you wouldn't be able to use your own powers.”

“So I should learn to fight, right?” Evan can see Quentin’s tension about that.  “Just in case.”

“...Right.”  Quentin exhales.  “Are you sure you wanna do that right now?”

Evan nods.  “Yeah. I think — it’s going to be harder, out there, when we leave the desert.  Especially given…”

“Right.”  Quentin sighs, again, turning away and tilting his head to look up at the sky.  “Part of me...part of me doesn’t want to go back,” he says, softly. 

Evan moves a little closer, reaching out and taking Quentin’s hand.  “You’re scared.”

“Of course I am,” Quentin admits, his voice cracking a little.  “All of this...I can’t control it, because if I try — if I try to fix everything, you know what’s gonna happen.”

Evan squeezes his hand.  “I know. But...the world is the way it is, and we have to live in it for a while.”  He reaches out with his mind, brushing up against the veil edging Quentin’s. “Prove to them that we’re only a threat if they  _ make _ us a threat.”

“They always do, though.  Always.” The veil thins a little.

Evan dives in, letting the flow of Quentin’s mind consume him.

_ We choose what we let them do,  _ Evan says, managing, just barely, to keep his feet, Quentin’s mind inundating him with movie-sharp memories of an alleyway, a baseball bat, a tattoo, a riot.   _ And I’ll be right with you if we choose to change it all at once. _

Quentin sends another memory his way, of asking Xavier if it’s allowed to dream something different.  Evan feels the anger pooled in the guts of the memory, and this is a formative moment — because Xavier never answered, which was the wrong answer to give an angry thirteen year old who just realized how much the world was willing to destroy him.

_ We’re different _ , Evan tells him, pushing a memory of his own forward, just as formative: the first time he saw Quentin talk about the revolution.  

It hadn’t been a wild moment, hadn’t been a fight or a riot.  Quentin was on his back on a couch, just after the Phoenix came last time, for Hope Summers, and Evan’s watching from the door as Quentin talks to Idie about flowers blooming in Cyclops’s footsteps, and the way things  _ could _ be.

For just a moment, Evan had seen what Idie saw, and that was the moment things began to change for him.  He sends that feeling over, too, and feels, distantly, Quentin’s physical body slumping against his own.

_ It mattered that much to you? _

_ Of course it did.  You were always so angry and cynical.  That was the moment I realized you really did believe in something. _

Quentin wavers in the thicket of their joined minds.   _ I didn’t want to, back then. _

_ But you did, and you do, and that’s what makes all of this so important. _ Evan threads closer, deeper.  This is an intimacy he isn’t used to, and doesn’t  _ quite _ understand, but he wants it, wants to give it.

_ But what if we fail? _

_ What if we don’t? _

Evan draws part of his awareness back to their physical bodies, and they’re very close, foreheads pressed together.  It’s the easiest thing in the world, in that moment, to shift just a little and kiss Quentin right there and then.

He’s ready, he thinks, to confess everything.

Quentin’s entire mind just stops, going completely still.  For a few moments, all of Quentin’s attention is on the two of them, physically entwined, the kiss itself dominating the both of them.

And then, then he pulls away.

Tears well at the corners of his eyes.  “Ev — Ev, I love you, but I can’t do this.  I’m sorry.”

And that’s how Evan’s heart breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry!!! I promise it’s gonna be okay!!


	8. Las Vegas, Nevada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin, Evan, and Idie go to Vegas, and, after an incident in a casino, finally talk about the one thing still keeping them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s discussion of the Tomorrow Never Learns arc in this chapter, including suicide and suicidal ideation. If you want to skip those bits, stop reading at: “Quentin squeezes Evan’s hand. “Sort of,” he mumbles.” And you can start back up at “Idie lets out a sob.”

The next couple of days are hard.  Idie  _ knows _ something happened between Evan and Quentin a couple of nights ago, but she doesn’t know what.

Just that it wasn’t good, and they both look like their hearts are broken.  

Idie can’t ask them what’s wrong, either, because, out in the desert, it’s basically impossible to get either one of them alone.

So, when they finally roll slowly into Las Vegas, she’s not sure she’s ever been more grateful to see a big city at night.  She turns to Quentin, briefly, from her place in the driver’s seat. “Do you have any hotel recommendations?” she asks, because it’s the sort of thing he would know.

“Yeah, there’s a couple places,” Quentin murmurs, and then tells her where to go.

The hotel he’s chosen is a pair of skyscrapers, the name of the hotel blazoned across the top of each tower, with beautifully lit fountains nearby.  It’s a gorgeous place, clearly expensive, and clearly suiting Quentin’s style.

She hopes that will soothe him, at least.

“We’ve been, like, living off the land for the last week,” Quentin says, rolling one shoulder.  “Figure we might as well treat ourselves, now that we’re back in civilization.

Why he still sounds desolate, Idie doesn’t know.

They get inside easily enough, and Idie feels Evan brush against the edge of her mind.   _ We should talk, when we have a second _ , he says.

_ Yes.  I need to know what happened. _

Quentin approaches the concierge.  “So, uh, what’s the nicest suite you have available?” he asks.  “Money’s no object, obviously.”

“Uh, we have one of our Chelsea Penthouse Suites available for the next week,” the concierge says, but his voice sounds dubious.  “That’s...quite a sum, though. I’m not sure —“

“Trust me, I can pay up front.”  Quentin pulls a credit card from his pocket.  “Give us the whole week, all the frills.” 

Maybe it’s his no-nonsense tone, or he’s massaging the concierge’s opinions a little, but they get the room keys and directions to the suite, and then they’re off.  It feels...not tense, exactly, but not as comfortable as things were back in New Orleans, or even those first few days in the desert.

When the arrive at the penthouse suite, Idie is shocked by its size.  “There’s — what — how  _ big _ is this place?”

“Three bedrooms,” Quentin murmurs, his hand brushing the small of her back as he slips inside.  “I figure, we’ve been living in each other’s pockets since Bastrona, we deserve a little bit of privacy.”

“Makes sense,” Evan agrees, though his voice is a little bit small.

Idie's gotten used to the proximity, but she nods anyway, accepting Quentin's decision, even though she's sure it's the wrong one.

 

 

* * *

 

When Quentin disappears into the suite's master bathroom to, in his words, “basically slough off all my skin,” Idie takes Evan aside.

“What happened?” she asks him, one hand coming up to cup his cheek.

Evan swallows, trying not to tear up, both at her tenderness and at the heartache he still feels over what happened in New Mexico.  He takes a breath. “I kissed him. And he, he said he loved me, but he couldn't 'do this,’ whatever that means.”

Idie pulls him close, wrapping her arms tightly around him.  “I'm so sorry,” she murmurs in his ear.

“I just...I don't understand,” Evan mumbles, his arms around her waist in turn.  “He wasn't lying. I could feel it. So why is he — why is he so scared of being with us?” He hates how plaintive he sounds, even to his own ears.  

“I don't know,” Idie murmurs.

It hurts, to know without a shadow of a doubt, that Quentin loves both of them back, but he still won’t choose to be with them.  She doesn’t understand it either, any more than Evan does; all she knows is that it hurts, and it’s  _ not necessary _ .

If only he would just  _ talk  _ to them.

“We’ll give him a couple of days,” she eventually murmurs, “and if he doesn’t say anything by then, we’ll approach him together and ask him what he’s so afraid of.”

Evan nods.  “Okay. I can live with that.”  He leans in and gives her a little kiss.  “I love you.”

“And I, you.”

 

 

* * *

 

They’re in Vegas, and they’re finally all twenty-one or older, so Quentin insists on taking Idie and Evan down to the hotel’s casino.  

“You’re not allowed to cheat,” Idie warns him.  “I don’t want us getting thrown out.”

“It’s not cheating!  It’s just math!” Quentin is doing his best to pretend that he’s put the sojourn in the desert behind him, but it’s not really working.  It’s still hard to look at Evan, because every time he does, he’s struck by the memory of how heartbroken Evan looked.

_ It’s better this way, _ he insists to himself.

_ No it isn’t, _ the Phoenix replies, immediately.   _ You love them, and they love you.  Why do you keep denying them? _

He doesn’t want to talk about this again, so he just sends her the memories, the sight of his future self, and future Idie, and his future self’s memories of future Evan.   _ I can’t risk this happening to them.  And if I tell them, they’ll just want to protect me from myself. _

“Quentin?” That’s Evan’s voice, soft and careful.  “You spaced out for a minute. You okay?”

_ Exactly that, _ Quentin thinks, and then says to Evan, “Yeah, I’m fine, the Phoenix just had a question about something, no big deal.”

Only the last part is technically a lie, after all.

They all get down into the casino floor, and Quentin smiles at both of them.  “So, any preferences on games?”

“Not really,” Idie says.  “I’ve never played any of them.”

“Wade’s really bad at poker,” Evan offers.  “But I have no idea if I’m really any better.”

Quentin nods.  “Dice games, then, so we can all be lucky or unlucky together.”  He leads them over to the craps table. “Promise I won’t cheat.”

When Evan smiles at him, all of this almost feels worth it.

 

* * *

 

Idie turns out to be quite good at craps, to everyone’s surprise, including her own.

“You know,” Quentin says, “maybe one of us could make you even luckier.  You blow on somebody’s dice for luck.”

“Since you know how it works,” Evan says, “you should do it.”

They’re all seated close together, trying not to take up too much space when only Idie’s currently playing the game.  Idie extends her hand with the dice and smiles at Quentin. “Go ahead,” she says, smiling at him, maybe just a little flirtatiously.

She  _ intends _ to fix this problem the three of them have, and if she has to seduce him into talking, she absolutely will.

He curls his hand around her wrist and leans over.  His breath over her hand warms the dice, and there’s something incredibly sensual about it — about the whole experience, really.  The dice in her hand, his hand on her wrist, his breath across her skin, and Evan, pressed against her shoulder where she’s sitting; all these things come together in a way that makes her almost want to shiver. 

“Do you feel lucky?” Evan murmurs into her ear.

“Yes,” she says, and, when Quentin finally lets go, she tosses the dice and wins another pot.

It goes on mostly like that for a little while, and then Quentin decides to go get drinks for them from the casino bar; none of them particularly like the trays of drinks being passed around by the waitresses in the pit, it turns out.

While Quentin’s gone, though, the guy to Evan’s left turns to him.  “You gonna be doing anything later?” he asks. 

“Excuse me?” Evan asks, sounding almost scandalized.

Idie throws another round, wins a little more money, but she keeps an eye on this guy, because it’s obvious what he wants.

He won’t get it, of course, but she’s still paying attention.

“It kinda looks like you’re playing third wheel for your friends,” the guy points out, shrugging his shoulders.  “Figured you might want a break from that.”

Idie shifts her free hand, creating a rose made out of ice, delicate and lovely, and tucks it behind Evan’s ear.  “He’s only a third wheel in the way a wheelbarrow may have three wheels,” she says, and kisses Evan’s cheek.

“Sorry,” Evan says, grinning a little.

“Something going on?” Quentin asks, from over Idie’s far shoulder.  “I got the drinks.”

Idie laughs a little, brushing Quentin’s hand as she takes hers from him.  “Our neighbor made a little mistake,” she says. “C’mere?”

Quentin places the other drinks on the table as Evan throws Idie’s dice for her.  They lose a little money that time, but it doesn’t matter. She’s distracted by the strange look in Quentin’s eyes.

She makes a flower of fire to match Evan’s flower of ice and tucks it behind Quentin’s ear, her hand skating his jaw as she pulls it back.  “There, now you match.”

“Cool,” Quentin says, but something is aching in his eyes, similar to the ache she saw in Evan’s earlier.

Idie makes another toss, and decides that it’s going to have to be tonight.

She can’t stand watching either of them hurting like this.

 

 

* * *

 

Idie catches Evan’s eye in the elevator as they go back upstairs to the suite.  He opens his mind to her, pulling up a little shield just to be sure Quentin won’t notice them.

_ What is it? _

_ I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.  And I don’t want him to jump to conclusions. _  Idie sends him an image; the look on Quentin’s face earlier in the casino.

He doesn’t want to sleep alone, either, and he understands what that means.

_ So we’re going to try and get him to talk? _

_ We’re going to  _ **_get_ ** _ him to talk, _ Idie tells him.   _ I won’t let him hurt all three of us like this. _

The determination in her voice gives him a little bit of courage, and when the three of them are inside the suit, he’s the one who speaks up.  “Um, Quentin?”

“Yeah?” Quentin asks, looking at him, something surprised in his tone.

“I think...I think the three of us need to have a talk,” he says.  “There’s a lot of stuff that’s not getting said, and I think...we need to talk about all of it, to work out what’s wrong.”

Quentin swallows.  “I — it’s not that easy, Ev.”

“Because you’re afraid,” Idie interjects.  “You’re afraid of something, and you won’t tell us what, and it’s keeping you away from us.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Quentin asks, blinking.

Evan puts his arm around Idie’s waist and reaches out for Quentin’s hand.  “We love you. And you love us. But you’re afraid, and you won’t let us be with you.  Why?”

Quentin takes his hand, and Quentin’s hand is shaking.

“I said, it’s — it’s not that easy.”

“Does it have to do with the Phoenix?” Idie asks, gently.  “Like it did in Alabama?”

Quentin squeezes Evan’s hand.  “Sort of,” he mumbles. “I...do you guys remember, that time there was all that time travel shit, and that guy came back to try and kill Evan?”

Evan remembers, of course.  “Yeah,” he says, squeezing back.  “You, um, that was when you got the Phoenix Corporation, right?”

“Yeah.”  Quentin shifts closer.  “When I — when I went into the future, to stop my future Dark Phoenix self, it was...It was really bad.”  He looks away. “He...shit. Future you went Apocalypse, and so he...he made his name as a hero on stopping future you.”

“...Did he kill Apocalypse?” Idie asks, reaching out to pull Quentin closer.

Quentin shakes his head.  “He couldn’t. Future you,” he says, gesturing to Idie, “You were Death, so if future Evan died…”

“She would’ve been the next Apocalypse,” Evan murmurs.  “Christ.”

He holds Idie a little tighter.

“What did he do, then?”

“He locked his Evan away inside Cerebro, trapped in his own mind.”  Quentin swallows. “He said he...he sent Evan back to Kansas.”

Evan feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he pulls Quentin against his chest.

No wonder Quentin’s afraid of this — if he becomes Apocalypse, and they’re  _ all _ together — that would just hurt even worse, wouldn’t it?

“Why did he become Dark Phoenix, then?” Idie presses, gently.

“Grief,” Quentin murmurs.  “He thought he finally got to be a hero, but then he met me, you know, during that other weird time-travel thing a few months before?”  Quentin finally worms his arms around both Evan and Idie, his face against Evan’s neck. “He met me, and realized…None of it was worth it.  Because he’d lost his Idie and Evan, nothing else mattered.”

Evan swallows.  “I think I get why maybe you don’t want to be with us, then.”

Quentin’s head jerks up.  “No. It’s not — I’m not  _ afraid _ of  _ Apocalypse _ , Ev.”  He bites his lip.  “I’m afraid of turning out like him.  Of loving the two of you so much I want to die.”

Evan catches something unsaid in the words.

Idie puts her hand on Quentin’s cheek.  “What happened to him?”

“The whole reason — the whole reason he fucking had me brought to the future — was so that I could kill him.  He wanted to die. And he wanted me to see why, so I didn’t make his mistakes.” Quentin leans into Idie’s touch.  “His Idie was there. And a really old Wolverine. We…between the three of us, we killed him.”

Idie gasps a little.  “She — how could she?”

“She’s the one who struck the killing blow,” Quentin mumbles, one of his hands coming up to take Idie’s.  He kisses her hand. “He tried to tell her why he wanted to die, why he did everything he did, but...he didn’t say it right, and she didn’t get it.”

Idie lets out a sob, her face falling into the other side of Evan’s neck.  Evan holds her tighter against him, tears in his own eyes. “He couldn’t live without them,” he murmurs.

“Right,” Quentin says.  “But they — they were always going to be able to live without him.”  He steps back, pulling away from both of them. “She picked him, when the time came to choose.  And I — I don’t want to get in the way of something like that.”

Evan realizes what Quentin’s talking about, and his face falls.  But just for a moment, because — because —

“What if we don’t choose?” he says, determination in his eyes.  “What if we promise each other, the three of us, that no matter what, we keep each other.  We don’t split apart.”

Quentin looks at him.  “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to be Apocalypse,” Evan says, because it’s true.  “And I know that if I can avoid that, and if we all have each other, I  _ know _ you won’t become Dark Phoenix.”

Idie is still crying, but she steps away from Evan.  “He’s right,” she says to Quentin. “If we stick together, if we don’t let the world tear us apart, then what you saw won’t happen.  Even if the world sets itself against us, if we have each other…”

“Do you believe we’ll win?” Quentin asks.  “When the world finds out about me, and about Ev’s new powers?  People are gonna be scared.”

“We can take care of each other,” Evan says.  “Keep each other safe. That’s — that’s the only thing that matters.  Before anything else, before we can do anything for the world,  _ we _ have to be okay.”

Idie nods, and reaches out for Quentin.  “We love you, and you love us. Why should we all suffer because of a future nobody wants?”

Quentin finally steps toward her, his hands finding her waist.  “I do. I love you, both of you. That’s — that’s part of why I asked the two of you to come with me.  Because, if I don’t lose you now, I might not lose you then.”

“You won’t lose us,” Evan says, standing where he is and waiting.

“Promise?” Quentin mumbles, meeting Evan’s eyes.

“I promise,” Evan says.  “We won’t become monsters.  We won’t.”

Idie cups Quentin’s face in her hands.  “We are not monsters, and we will not let the world  _ make _ us monsters, because we will have each other.”

Quentin nods, then, just a little.  “...Okay. Okay. This, I can do this.”

He kisses her, briefly, familiarly.  Then, he kisses each of her cheeks, cupping the back of her neck with one hand.  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’ll try not to make you cry again.”

Then he steps away from her, even as she smiles.  He turns to Evan. “And I’m sorry, for panicking on you, in the desert.”

“I get why you did,” Evan says, and steps toward him, offering him a hand.

Quentin does him one better, and practically throws himself into Evan’s arms.

As they kiss, all the shields coming down, Evan finds himself consumed in the rush of Quentin’s love, and throws all of his own right into it as well.

_ Finally _ .

Finally, they’re all going to be okay.

 

* * *

 

They don’t use the two extra bedrooms in the suite that night, and the next morning, Quentin wakes up plastered to Evan’s back.  For a moment, he’s terrified, but then…

He’s filled with the warm of Evan and Idie’s love.  They’re not shielding their minds at all, and he’s not doing more than the lightest, most porous veil around his.  And they love him. Even asleep, that feeling is utterly present.

He rolls over onto his back, looking up at the elegantly decorated ceiling of the suite’s master bedroom.  This is real. He’s with Evan and Idie, because they’re all in love.

This is really happening.

_ I told you, you didn’t need to deny yourself this, _ the Phoenix says, teasing a little.

As usual, she’s right.


	9. Epilogue: Malibu, California

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally get to Malibu, ready to begin their new life together, both in private and in public.

They spend an amazing week in Vegas, but eventually, they do make it all the way to Malibu.  Quentin’s never actually  _ visited _ the house he owns there, because California is... _ complicated… _ for him. 

But it’s fucking gorgeous, set into a rocky cliff face above the Pacific, and shit, now that he has Idie and Evan, he thinks he could live here, for sure.

The station wagon rolls to a stop in front of the house, and Evan leans back against the front seat.  “How long have you had this place?” he asks Quentin. “And you’ve never been here before?”

Quentin shrugs.  “I bought it on a whim when I first got the company, but I never moved in, so the Nuns take care of it for me.”

One of those nuns comes out of the house, her hood down, but still dressed in gold and green.  The colors of the Phoenix, the colors of people who worship Her.

Oof.

Quentin slips out of the car.  “Hi. Uh, is anyone staying in the house right now?”

“No, sir.”  She cocks her head.  “Has the Phoenix…?”

“Yeah,” he says, and calls forth a little bit of Her fire.  “She’s onboard. I, uh, don’t know what you guys do with that, but, maybe you should let the Order know?”

He feels a little weird, always, dealing with worshippers.

The Phoenix nudges him back a little, and he lets Her take control of his mouth.  “ _ My friend,”  _ she says to the gobsmacked nun,  _ “Thank you for taking care of the house for my Host.  Bless you, and go with joy.” _

The nun nods, tears in her eyes.  “Thank you,” she says, before dashing to a small car — presumably hers — and leaving.

Quentin sighs as the Phoenix retreats.  “It’s gonna be weird, having to deal with that stuff now.”

_ I know, but think: at least it’s not the Shi’Ar _ .

“Good point.”

Evan and Idie get out of the car, and each takes one of his hands. 

“Was that one of the…?” Idie asks. 

“Yeah.  One of the nuns.  She was caretaking, I think.  She’s gone to tell the Order that I’m back, and She’s back.”  Quentin shrugs one shoulder. “It won’t be long before rumor starts to spread outside them.”

“Are you ready for that?” Evan asks, squeezing his hand.

Quentin considers the question honestly.  “You know, I think I am.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, the world finds out about the Phoenix.

Idie wakes up to Evan and Quentin laughing about something, and she climbs out of bed to find them in the bathtub, looking at each other like they’re having a whole conversation in their heads.

“Oh, Idie,” Quentin says, grinning.  “I was just getting ready to make my announcement.”

She strips down out of her clothes and slides into the bubble bath with them.  “Maybe that should wait until after we’ve all had a bath?” she asks.

“Okay, okay,” he says, and leans over to kiss her.  “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

With luck, it will become an even better one.

 

* * *

 

It winds up happening after breakfast.  Evan grins a little; he knows what Quentin plans to do, and while it’s maybe not the  _ smartest _ plan, but it’s certainly the most  _ Quentin _ way to do it.

They filled Idie in on the plan while they were all in the bath, and she agrees, people aren’t exactly going to be  _ happy _ about this.

But they can handle angry people.  They’ve been handling angry people their whole lives.

Now, the only thing that matters is dealing with the world on  _ their _ terms, the four of them — Evan, Idie, Quentin, and the Phoenix Force.  Anyone who has a problem with any one of them will have to reckon with them all.

Quentin smirks a little, kisses Idie, then Evan, and then begins to project:

_ It’s an image of Quentin against a computer screen, projected into every mutant mind on Earth, and also a few Very Important Homo Sapiens, too — Evan can hear the sarcasm in the way Quentin thinks about that — so that everyone is on the same page. _

_ Quentin, in the image, grins.  “Guess who’s back, ladies, gentleman, and others — yep, it’s Us.” _

_ Evan can’t help but laugh as Quentin projects another image of himself, his head on fire.  It’s funny, just how at ease Quentin can be now, especially given time to get used to things. _

_ “No, I’m not going to tell you where We are, because I know  _ **_exactly_ ** _ how you all react to Her coming down to visit.”  He crosses his arms. “You have nothing to be afraid of, unless you bring it on yourselves by trying to hurt Us.  You should know that by now.” _

_ A wave of disdain, sparkling with nerve, flickers across the projection.  “We don’t have any demands. We just want to live, and do good for mutantkind.” _

_ He smirks.  “If you got a problem with that, well.  Just see how that goes for you.” _

He cuts the projection without another word, and collapses into a fit of giggles.  “I did it,” he says, “I just told the whole world to go fuck themselves.”

Idie’s smile is wide and proud.  “Yes, I think you did.”

Quentin sweeps her into his arms, kissing her long and deep.  Then, his arm curls around Evan, dragging him in to kiss him too.

The three of them will have to deal with the world they’re going to make, but now, Evan knows that they can.

Not just because they have to.

But because together, they can do  _ anything _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for hanging in there with this fic, if you’ve been following along for a while! I’m really proud of this one, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
